Let It Break You Open

The blood of the heart not only carries pain, it carries the catalyst of transformation.

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Transcript

The package trembled in Eleanor Roosevelt's hands. Inside, love letters from her husband. Dozens of them. But they were not for her. They were for another woman. Lucy Mercer, their social secretary. Her world collapsed on that September afternoon in 1918.

The betrayal came without warning. Eleanor had given everything to this marriage. Her trust, her devotion, her very identity wrapped up in being Franklin's wife. Now that identity lay shattered at her feet like a broken mirror, each shard reflecting back a different kind of pain.

The old Eleanor died that day. The proper society wife, the woman who lived for others' approval, the girl still desperate to be loved after losing both parents before age ten. She couldn't survive this blow. But from those ashes arose someone extraordinary.

She let her heartbreak break her open. The very qualities that made her suffer—her sensitivity, her empathy, her deep understanding of loneliness—became her greatest strengths. She poured that pain into purpose.

When she spoke to coal miners about unsafe conditions, she spoke from knowing what it meant to feel powerless. When she fought for civil rights, she drew from her own experience of being an outsider. When she ch ampioned refugees and the downtrodden, she connected through her intimate knowledge of rejection and loss.

The Yogis teach that before we can reach our highest purpose, our feet must be "washed in the blood of the heart." From Eleanor Roosevelt's deepest wounds flowed a wellspring of public compassion.

Remarkably, she even found the strength to forgive him, though few could imagine doing so. She became more than a First Lady. She became, in the words of President Truman, "The First Lady of the World." The very wounds that could have destroyed her became the source of her power.

There isn't a single person who walks this earth without experiencing some form of heartbreak. Some carry wounds deeper than others, but we all know this pain. This pain you carry, whatever its depth or source, has the same potential. Let it break you open, not down. Let it expand your compassion, not contract it. Let it fuel your purpose, not poison your spirit.

The blood of the heart not only carries pain, it carries the catalyst of transformation.