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.

Learned the Hard Way, or Just in Recovery? HAWMC, and Eagle Pictures

Good Morning, friends! Not quite so cranky this morning! I enjoyed a wonderful writers' group meeting last night--took my fluffy duster with me and clutched it all the way through, and went home feeling much better with the world.


Today's HAWMC prompt invites us to visit some past mistakes and look at lessons we've learned the hard way. This may be the only way I ever learn anything, aside from some academic, linguistic and culinary stuff! An additional difficulty for me in writing this is that there are so many things I'm still in the process of learning, still slamming into the wall over--I'm not in a position to say I've learned them yet. 


On the other hand, there's an obvious "hard lesson" theme that's been in resonance from the very first paragraph of my very first post on this blog. I confessed to being "in recovery from black and white thinking," which is part of why my blog has the name it does.


I'll say a bit more about that in the current "health activism" context, but first I want to talk about it in the context of the eagle.

Phil and I were talking in the cabin at lunchtime yesterday, when I looked out and noticed we had a visitor. 

Eagles don't usually like to land so close when we're around, but juveniles like this one are sometimes a bit more forward. Goofy guy... But then we noticed something wasn't quite right.

He couldn't put weight on his right foot. He ended up lying down like a pheasant, right on the edge of our bluff, in a patch of sun...

...and stayed there for a couple hours. I've never seen an eagle lie down like that before! 
Legally, you're not supposed to feed eagles, and it's a federal offense to kill one. But at this point, with the eagle in our yard, clearly suffering, Phil was wondering whether he should put it out of its misery. And we definitely thought it right to put out some food nearby, to give the poor bird a chance. 
As it turned out, he did take off eventually, and flapped raggedly away. I wonder if he'll make it--probably not. Been a long, rough winter, there are a lot of eagles here, and they are merciless toward weakness. But this is definitely an example of where black and white did not apply!


In terms of health issues, here are some lessons I've learned or am learning about black-and-white thinking:
(1) "The mainstream" isn't all toxic. Many people who are drawn to alternative health believe everything about the mainstream is toxic and evil, from the government to the water supply to all and every pharmaceutical medication in every and all contexts to conventional diagnoses. Cancer is a disturbance in the energy flow, mental health issues are invasions by unwanted guests that need to be released or exorcised. For a person holding these beliefs who suffers any kind of health issue, it quickly becomes impossible to participate in any kind of regular society. You can't work for "the machine," you can't wear regular clothes, or keep up with world news. 
I lived like that for many years, and kept company with some amazing people. However, it wasn't an overall positive for my health or my forward momentum in life. Recognizing that there are good people in 'the mainstream' and good work I can do there has been an emotional and beautiful process, and I have Phil to thank for tutoring my transition.


(2) Diagnoses can be useful--especially if you have (a) health condition(s) and are wanting to function in the mainstream. Diagnoses offer self knowledge, and also offer the opportunity to connect and support/be supported by other people with the same condition, who are able to relate to one another in ways never before experienced. If you don't have a framework for identifying the problem, how can you find a solution?


If I hadn't been willing to re-enter the mainstream, I wouldn't now be in my MFA Program that I love so much. I wouldn't be teaching, or participating in and facilitating writers groups. I wouldn't be getting invited to share my poems at local events. And if I didn't see my naturopath and therapist regularly, take my meds, acknowledge the triggers and freakout tendencies and strive to find ways to smooth those over, I wouldn't be able to do any of the above.


My life is richer and more functional (yes, even now when I'm at the end of my rope!) as a result.

What's something YOU learned the hard way?