Tag Archives: heart

Your Heart

The eyes see what they want to see.

The heart feels what it can handle.

The hands hold only what it can grasp.

What is the limit?  Is there a limit to your
love, your feelings?

Talk to your heart, ignore the head, if you’d like to sing.
Logic will only bring you black and white, the stark obvious.

Hold yourself, like a lover…arms warm and safe.  Bring
yourself the immense healing of the heart.
The eyes, and hands will follow.

Love thy self.

Waiting

barbaqueLarge

I check Facebook with the sound of hammering in the background.  Jamie is in the yard removing the legs to the dock.  He needs to put new legs on for the summer season, these are too short.  I just finished raking about a half hour ago.  I’ve had enough for one day.   I used to be “outdoorsy” but prefer the company of my computer as the tapping keyboard lulls me away.  It’s time for the spring cleanup and my mind is still frozen in the Winter.

I do prefer the Spring to Winter, but this time of year is a waiting game.  The dredges of the last season are scattered on our lawn.  Leaves, branches and twigs remind us of the toll our trees payed over the cold biting Winter.  Acorns crunch as I walk across the lawn, soon to be mulched by the lawnmower.  Should I think about buying flowers?  Not yet, I decide, as the temperatures are still too turbulent.  The Sun is beginning to be our ally again though, melting the Spring snow quickly and giving us some warmth as we do our chores.    I cringe when I look at the empty flower pots, thinking about the work to come.  But,  the thought of lazy summer days and the beauty of the blossoms melts my heart.

We wait for our boat to show up from the boat yard, so we continue to spend our free time picking up and unpacking.  No snow in the forecast this week.  I still don’t feel like there’s any progress, as I look at the calm lake. The lawn looks better, but the dock still sits above the shoreline waiting to be put in the water.   Temperatures will be cold tonight.  The boat will be here in two weeks, but it feels like an eternity.

I type with my feet wrapped in layers of warmth, just thinking about shorts and flip flops – and no more cleanup.  The stripped down ease of the Summer engages my mind to wander.  Why does this transition to Spring bother me so much?  I don’t mind the work; it’s just the anticipation of Summer that gets me out of sorts.  Transitions are neither here nor there.  They are usually a placeholder for better or worse things to come.

I know that this Summer will be fantastic entertaining our friends and family.  Until we put away the boat, and start raking leaves in the crisp Autumn air, waiting for Winter to come.

Dear Diary

DCF 1.0

Dear Diary

Today I was bored.  I drove to work making lists in my head.  There’s all sorts of stuff that I need to unpack; serious, embedded, moldy to-dos that hover and poke at my psyche.  Why is it these demands always rush to my conscience when I am driving? I’m the type to bury my head when I don’t want to face something.  The list is much too long.  I must call my son, file paperwork, repair my windshield, walk the dog, pay some bills and renew my passport.  You never know when a European vacation could cross my path.  I purposefully wish my list away, as I reach to turn on the radio.  A few things linger in my mind, but not everything.  Noise is bliss.

The center of town looks as it always does, serene suburbia, except for an ambulance parked down the street with its lights flashing.  I give it little thought.   Seems like more of an emergency when the sirens are blaring.  I park in the town center, and cross the street to go to the town hall where my office is located.  I notice some teenagers coming out of a convenience store.  They are laughing and waking close together, like I remember.  I ask myself, “Do I wish I were a teenager again?”  No.  But, I would like to be that carefree again, maybe for just a day, or just an hour.  My mental list switches to a work agenda, as I put the key in the door to unlock it.

Uploading video files gives me some time to reflect.  I wonder how my friend is doing, who lost her father yesterday.  I have to pick up some flowers for her.  Add it to the list.  Upload completed.
Who will watch these videos that I’ve worked on?  Will it be important to them?  I doubt people have “watch public access” on their to-do lists, but I’m hopeful.  It’s why I keep doing what I do.  Scanning the program listing, I notice a number of shows that I’ve produced and feel good about it.  I’m not changing the world, but maybe I’m reaching someone.  Just anyone.

So why am I writing to you Diary, when this boring day gives me so little to tell?  Because, some days are just filled with a sense of serenity like the cool waters of an inlet. Nothing to report. I should embrace these days, even though they are just a footnote.   No one I love is sick or hurting.  Work was done and was uneventful.  Demanding lists invaded my space, but I will listen to my heart not my head.  I tend to turn away, and evade the urgent anyway .  I just want to live life on my own terms, not on what is expected.  I want to choose what is important to me;  simply.

Reevaluate this critical list to see what surfaces.

I will pick up some flowers and call my son.