Delayed Gift of Found Hearts (and Why Feathers Isn't Going to Do It All)

In addition to my goodie-making vortex in the run-up to the Holidays, I was also frantically collecting heart-shaped rocks. Every beach hike, I'd get back to the car with my pockets around my ankles and a couple more in my hands.  As I found better or more intriguing ones, others in the stash would get tossed, to lie somewhere as innocuous rocks, absolved of their role as heart with all its metonymic and metaphoric extensions.

I was so busy collecting the rocks, I didn't really think through how I was going to present them to their recipients. So, since I ended up being absent for the whole of the holidays, the hearts remained on the counter. I only gave two away that already had clearly intended recipients.

So, here they are on the counter, and since I'm house-and-dog-sitting, which gives me the sense of distance to allow me to spring-clean the cabin, it was time to move them.
A commemorative team photo:

Quite a motley team, united by a shape, or just the hint of it, that, for humans, speaks to depths of connection.
I found three more after taking the team photo and after having dismantled the flat montage:

The middle one is so big and weird, and the one on the right could be a foot almost as well as a heart. Had you ever imagined the heart and the foot as being similarly shaped? What metaphors could that tread out?
Some of the rocks are big and ugly, but still hearts.

 Some are small, and variously shaped. The bottom left one is actually a shell rather than a rock, and I feel a particular tenderness for it, how it's hollowed out, like half a hazelnut, like a prism.

 This one has that three-dimensional thing going on, and you can only see that it's a heart at a specific angle. Hearts are elusive sometimes. Sometimes, rocks don't know what we want them to say.

Some of them are simply, ineffably beautiful. No need for words (except a gentle curse of my lack of skills; I would love to have this picture flipped 90 degrees).

I've rambled on about found objects so many times here. These rocks are not only found but invested with special significance. There's something godly about a world in which that is possible; in which a small piece of the planet can ride in your pocket, or sit on your desk, and remind you of the precious cargo you carry within yourself, or of a precious other with whom you dance. Or, in which caressing one of these rocks can feel erotic in its sensuality. This underlying godliness is what this blog is named for.

As I'm spending more time alone (with the dogs I'm watching), I feel spaciousness. I like being by myself, even with all the other beings and noises. For a long time, I felt like I was in a tunnel, or on a runway. Now, I'm looking out through a door.
Time is still tripping me up. I'm forgoing many things in favor of writing-time and work. Email conversations are dragging because I'm taking longer to answer. My blog-citizenship has become less constant. I'm staying up late and getting up early. And yet, when I make it to the page, which is still a tardy arrival sometimes, with all the mechanics of being in a different place and taking care of the dogs, I make an excited scatter of starts and bursts as disparate as all the "hearts" pictured above, with no obvious direction or connection. They are all connected though. That little ulterior heart shape.

Speaking of ulterior, imagine the waves bonding to the sand like this.

Thank you for the feedback about the Feathers. I'm thinking photos will remain a necessity even if I don't remain living here. And comments are just a sine qua non, even if only one person comments. Thinking I should just do without them was a backhand way of putting myself down that was also impolite to potential commenters.