An Open Heart

by Melanie Gruenwald

I recently began practicing yoga.

After class, I notice that my heart feels wide open. I leave the studio wanting to connect with people. On Sundays, I wander through the Farmers Market after my flow, eager to share not only my Palisade peaches but also my spirit. Sometimes I even catch myself walking down the street singing.

Curious about this sensation, I asked a friend—both a yogi and a student of Kabbalah—what it is about yoga that leaves me so open-hearted.

She explained first the physical dimension: in yoga, we pull our shoulders back, expand our chest, breathe deeply, move into cobra pose, and orient the body forward. These practices literally open the heart center.

But there’s more. She reminded me of the energetic dimension: the way our breath and movement sync with others in the room, how their light and energy mingle with ours, lifting us, connecting us.

Kabbalah offers another layer of understanding. On the Tree of Life, the sefirah of Binah is known as Ima—the Mother. Binah is the womb, the place where creation is gestated, where a seed of inspiration (Chokhmah) is received and nurtured into form.

Spiritually, Binah is bound to rachamim—compassion or mercy—a word that shares its root with rechem, womb. Binah represents the maternal qualities of holding, protecting, and sustaining. To live with an open heart is to access this motherly energy within ourselves: the ability to hold another’s story without judgment, to create safe space for growth, to respond with empathy rather than defense.

Kabbalists describe Binah as the source of tears—the outpouring of the heart when it brushes against the depths of truth and compassion. Tears of grief or of joy soften us, dissolve barriers, and remind us that understanding comes not only from the mind but from the heart’s spaciousness.

When we align with Binah, we allow ourselves to be moved. We allow ourselves to be tender. We carry the sorrows and hopes of others. Open-heartedness, then, is not fragility—it is expansive strength. It is the strength of the Mother who embraces all her children. It is the courage to be vulnerable, the wisdom to understand, and the compassion to act from the heart.

This week has been heavy: the anniversary of 9/11, the assassination of a political pundit, children shot in a local high school. Murder is never the answer. In moments like these, an open heart feels both risky and necessary. Risky, because pain penetrates more deeply. Necessary, because compassion and connection are the only forces strong enough to transform our brokenness into healing.