The map to my complicated heart is hiding in a maze of connections that randomly excite one another. Their firings of heat and desire cannot be predicted and they do not wish to be studied. A watched heart will not share any secrets for it is a free and wild thing, constantly growing and renewing. It is not even aware of its own workings.
There are thorns in the heart. They are the tragedies and times of bitter sweet loss that beg to be revisited so as to release some pain and let it ebb away into memory. There are convoluted paths in the heart that lead us down one path with strong truthful intent, only to find at the destination that it is merely a waypoint, and the true intent was short sighted or perhaps even misguided.
But at every turn in the heart, around every corner, there are blossoms and bursts of colorful hope that unburden us from heaviness and sadness. There are tiny simple flowers that smile at us as blunder our way through on our journey. The flowers wink at us companionably in understanding because they realize that we do not know where we are going, and yet we stay the course – we keep on exploring and trying. The blossoms have been there too, on journeys undefined by maps. They have no control over their hue or size or placement. They have chanced upon their serendipitous locations with as much chance as we have discovered them.
The heart is a place where hope beats with an endless rhythm and keeps possibility always alive. Hope fuels us, lifts us and pierces the darkness so that we can see to love agin, to try again, to soar again.
Here’s to many many beats and blossoms, and days of hope!
Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.
We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.