Heart Tethers

hold on

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

There’s a tether that connects the hearts of care, the souls of kindness. It is tangible. It is sublime. It has a quality of light which bridges time and place, happenstance and circumstance.

It is not about words. Or at least not exactly. It is the way one can be seen: if known by name or face or only by the recognition of a shared humanity. It is the way one can be heard: by action or response, reflection or emotion, by prayer and by thought. It is the way we all are one, essentially, affected by the pains and joys that grip even those whom we may not know, and yet are part of us, in one way or another.

There is a tether that fetters heartbeats to the expressions of another. It is seen in young and old as mirror neurons and empathy weave the tapestry of wisdom and pulse with compassion.

There is a tether interlinking who we each are with who we can be. It exists in sharp relief to whom we might become if we risk the loss of that which nourishes what ticks within.

“It is a chain to care,” some say, reluctant of obligation. “A leash. A hindrance to independence.”

Not so, for it is not restraint, but rather a foundation. A cornerstone of interconnection. We are none of us truly an island, and all part of a shared future: the air, the earth, the water, the resources, the young and old, the hearts and minds.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Your Music

prettylittlethings.typepad.com

Photo: Pinterest

 

Find the string of life

That thrums within you

And play your music –

Bold or timid

Loud or soft,

It is unlike any other

Ever heard

Yet

As eternal

And familiar

As the beat that drums

Inside all living

Chests.

 

For The Daily Post

Journey Back, Journey On

 

As you travel paths of current days, new plans … remember times of past: The journeys never taken, the ones you had and wish you hadn’t, the ones you had and would again, the ones still left to seek and find.

Recall the feel of face against the window, the mist of breath on glass, the passing scenery, the whoosh of trucks, the sway of train, the rock of boat, the hum of plane.

Revisit muted conversations, real or invented, arguments and whining, complains and “I spy” games, “she’s touching me” and “99 bottles” songs.

Sensations, shared or private. Fall-asleep-legs, sticky vinyl against summer skin, hair in eyes, road grit, sweet treats, cold drinks. The heaviness of someone’s slumber on your shoulder, the lull of road weighing your own lids down.

And music. Radioed or piped through earphones. Sang loudly, hummed, internally known, ignored. The way the beat or words or both matched blur of blacktop under wheels or rain on windshield; the way it sometimes did not match at all.

Be still. Be rocked. Be moved. Be carried.

Allow yourself to be transported, taken back, imagined forward.

On this journey, your commute through life.

 

For The Daily Post