Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Before we had brains, we had hearts

Before we had brains, we had hearts

 Taken from bits of my journal


I’m in the future now, and it’s not like you’d imagine.

I hear the bulldozer getting louder as I swat the grass off my ear, scratch my leg with my other leg and wonder if the world is about to end.

“We belong only by doing,’ the machinery hums and I realize it’s too far away to affect me.

My skin crawls with the uncomfortable itch of all the things I’m not doing, but I don’t move and I think of you.

You once told me that someone said you were a static person.

This was back when we actually still believed that age would bring clarity and that picking scabs would help them heal. That’s not how scabs work.

The conversation relaxed through the night, and almost landed just right. But there was a lot of space between the things we felt and the words we said.

“I never quite can be what I’m trying to be,” you said, “I can’t be what I want to be. What I am is always an accident.”

“People who read writers like Chekhov are more empathetic,” I respond.  “It’s scientifically proven. So a least you have that.”

It never used to be this hard to get at meaning. Before we never needed permission to be big, to talk big.

I kissed you, which was always terrifying. There are so many ways it can always go, and half of them are bad.

“You just love making rules for everything, “ you said when I pulled away, and I knew you were right.

We stayed like that till dawn.

We are an accumulation of our rejections and failures.

I am in the future now, and it’s not like you’d imagine. But now, we have more important things to worry about.

All the givers are gold.

The way is clear and I am there for you.

“It was part of the game. It was important.”

“Flowers will protect us.”

I don’t know what it feels like to be unconnected.

“The love is in the fish guts, so I’m told.” My friend for life explained once, as coffee spilled and I pretended to understand. “Before we had brains, we had hearts.”

Embedding intentionality.
I know that you know.
I know that you know that I know.

Virginia Wolf is the master of this.

I know exactly what I want, just not what form it will take.  

My uncle says that everything we imagine is real. That’s a dangerous thought.

“I shall not exist if you do not imagine me.” There is no harm in smiling.

So here we go again, the same old thing.

I think I’d rather go play on the swing.




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