Coloured hearts

Sep 20 / Dr. Carlos Raimundo
Updated article from the original in 2002
Stephanie’s seventh birthday coincided with a weekend when I was invited to run a workshop in a town outside Sydney. My wife and I decided to turn it into a family weekend, which was a beautiful experience we were all looking forward to.

When we arrived at the country motel, our son, Erasmo, quickly made new friends, and Stephanie explored every corner of the room. She found something she wanted to show me and, in her excitement, ran over towards me. However, I was tired and preoccupied with my workshop, so I brushed her off without noticing.
A few minutes later, she asked Erasmo to give me an envelope she had found; inside was a drawing of a girl crying with a broken heart. Only then did I realise what I had done. Her drawing made me feel a tightness in my chest.
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Write your awesome label here.

I called Stephanie over, placed her on my lap, and apologised for not giving her my attention. We hugged, and after a few moments, she went off to continue playing.


Not long after, she sent me another envelope. This time, it was filled with colourful hearts and the words, “I love you, Dad.” My heart opened, and I felt immense joy and gratitude. Our eyes met across the room, silently exchanging mutual appreciation and love.

Stephanie’s heart had been hurt, but it had also been healed.

The story in my heart ends there, though it continued for her. Stephanie’s ability to express herself through art from a young age became the stepping stone for her to become an artist and an accomplished art therapist.
Stephanie’s quick forgiveness taught me the importance of being present and receptive to others' emotional expressions, especially when they feel vulnerable and hurt. In her silent, nonverbal way, Stephanie created a path for us to reconnect. She didn’t accuse or blame; she shared her feelings. I had to step out of my world and into hers and encounter her. This mutual recognition is at the heart of relational healing.

I realised it’s not enough to feel sorry or regretful when we recognise that we have hurt someone; we must express it and take full responsibility. It’s about being willing to “open the envelope and read the message” that the other person sends, understanding and accepting their feelings, and responding with an open heart. This type of encounter is transformative—it heals and connects us deeper. But we must actively create space for the other person to express their hurt.
When sharing this story with others, I often focused on Stephanie’s actions—her courage to express her feelings and her capacity to forgive. However, during a Play of Life training, a student pointed out the importance of my response. She shared that she often felt like Stephanie in her relationship with her parents, who couldn’t or wouldn’t "open her envelopes," so she stopped sending them. She said, “Every time I shared how I felt—my broken heart and tears—they dismissed it. They made the issue about them, talking about their problems and how much they’d suffered, making me open their envelopes instead.

I learned it was a waste of time and energy to express myself, so I stopped sending them envelopes, but they continued sending me theirs. Through therapy, I learned not to open them anymore, and I’m okay with that. But I never realised until now that I’ve kept so many unsent cards with coloured hearts; they are a huge weight in my heart. I stopped sending coloured hearts to people close to me, too. I became cold and scared to open my heart; I didn’t want to be hurt again. It’s hard for me to share my feelings with others, affecting my relationships.”
The student’s experience touched many hearts in the class. I took that opportunity to guide the group through a Play of Life and sociometry process that allowed each person to map out who in their social atom, as it’s called in sociometry, had not received messages of love and care—those kept in unsent envelopes. One student said, “In therapy, I mainly work on those I felt didn’t love or care for me, but I’ve never thought of giving attention to those I haven’t shared what I had in my heart for them.” It became clear that healing requires both inner work and relational engagement.
As Buber suggests, and it’s at the centre of the Play of Life, actual growth happens when we meet, are met, see, and are seen. This mutuality creates the freedom to love and be loved, requiring courage from both sides. If we remain closed off, insisting on doing everything alone, we risk carrying the weight of our hurts and undelivered expressions of love. True healing and freedom come when we can trust again, meet others authentically, and allow the flow of love to move between us. Learning how to open envelopes of broken hearts is an art that can be learnt. It can be challenging as it confronts us and triggers memories of the envelopes we sent that were never read. However, it’s also crucial to learn to celebrate and accept envelopes filled with coloured hearts. A way to start is by sending and receiving coloured hearts.
This experience with Stephanie was a powerful reminder of the transformative potential of genuine encounters, where opening one’s heart can lead to profound healing and reconnection.

A friend who read this story said, "I’ll start sending Coloured Hearts to myself, too.” What a great idea—sending coloured hearts to celebrate the parts of ourselves we feel are strong, but especially to those areas where we feel a bit fragile, discoloured, and not joyful."

We’d love to hear your feedback and learn how you might apply this simple experience to your own life. Use the contact form to send the feedback.

Note:
If you feel you have unsent envelopes with cards of broken or coloured hearts or find it hard to open envelopes sent to you with broken or coloured hearts, it may be time to look for a companion to the journey of healing, a counsellor or a coach. 
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