Welcome to Courage, Dear Heart. I’m Charli, and today, we are delving into the concept of the “altar of the heart”—a place where courage meets tenderness, where vulnerability and strength coexist, and where we come to honour the truth within us
Take a deep breath in… and as you exhale, feel the weight of the day fall away.
Allow your breath to soften and settle into a slower rhythm.
Today, we are going inward into the sacred space of the heart.
Imagine, if you will, that within you lies an altar—not a physical one, but an altar of the heart.
This altar is a space where all of you is welcomed, a place where you honour every emotion, every experience, and every breath that has brought you to this moment.
As you listen today, I invite you to visualise what this inner altar looks like.
What offerings might you place there?
What symbols of your journey belong in this sacred space?
The heart is more than just an organ, more than just the metaphorical seat of emotions.
It is a sacred vessel.
It holds our stories, our grief, our joy.
It carries the weight of our courage and the whispers of our deepest fears.
And like any sacred vessel, it deserves to be honoured.
Today, I want us to think about the heart as an altar—a place we come to in stillness to make offerings of all that we carry.
What if, instead of rushing past our emotions, we could bring them to the altar of the heart?
What if, instead of hiding our vulnerability, we could place it tenderly on this sacred space to be witnessed and held?
Picture a physical altar, adorned with candles, sacred objects, or simple offerings. It is a place of presence, of stillness, of honouring. Each item placed on the altar holds significance—perhaps it is a memory, a prayer, a representation of something we wish to release or something we wish to call in.
Now imagine creating this same space within yourself.
The altar of the heart is not about perfection; it’s not about having it all figured out.
It’s about embracing our wholeness, making space for every part of ourselves—the messy, the beautiful, the tender, and the strong. Each feeling, each experience, has a place here.
So, I invite you now to pause and reflect: what would you place on your heart’s altar today?
What parts of yourself are calling to be honoured?
Maybe it’s grief or loss.
Maybe it’s joy or hope.
Maybe it’s the desire to be seen, to be heard.
Or maybe it’s a fear that’s been weighing heavy on your chest.
Whatever it is, know that it is worthy of being held on your heart’s altar.
As you reflect on this, consider the courage it takes to bring your true self to this space.
Courage is often seen as bold and fierce, but I want to honour the quiet courage—the courage it takes to sit with your feelings, to hold space for your pain, to allow joy even when it feels vulnerable.
There is a particular kind of bravery in being still with yourself, in saying, “I am enough as I am, and all of me deserves to be seen.”
For me, the altar of the heart is where I come to process my grief.
It’s where I hold the memory of my brother, the pain of loss, and the tenderness of love that still remains.
I place my grief here, not as a burden, but as an offering to be witnessed. And alongside it, I place my courage—the courage to keep moving forward, the courage to keep my heart open, even when it hurts.
This is where I honour both my sorrow and my strength because they are not separate—they are woven together into the fabric of who I am.
And in that weaving, there is wisdom. The heart knows how to hold it all—the joy, the sorrow, the courage, the vulnerability. And so, I honour it. I create space for it. I build my altar within.
What about you?
What stories, emotions, and dreams do you carry in your heart?
Can you allow yourself to bring them forward to be placed on this altar? Can you honour them, not as things to fix or change, but as sacred pieces of your journey?
This is the power of creating an altar of the heart—it becomes a place where everything belongs.
Where the messiness of life can be seen as sacred.
Where the parts of you that you’ve hidden away can be welcomed back into the fold. And where your courage doesn’t have to be about fighting or striving, but about allowing—allowing yourself to be fully present with what is.
I believe there is profound healing in this.
When we stop running from our inner experiences and instead offer them a place to rest on the altar of the heart, we give ourselves the gift of deep compassion. We say, “I see you, I honour you, I’m here for you.”
So today, I invite you to spend some time at your heart’s altar.
What do you want to honour here?
What parts of your journey need to be seen and acknowledged?
Maybe you’ll find that there’s grief to process, or perhaps there’s a joy you’ve been holding back. Or maybe, just maybe, there’s a quiet strength you’ve yet to recognise within yourself.
In this sacred space, you don’t need to fix anything, change anything, or even understand it all.
Simply be present.
Trust that your heart has the wisdom to hold it all.
And trust that you are enough.
Have courage, dear heart. Your heart knows the way.
