The heart begs to be believed.

Something was off today, I could tell. I slashed thru bills, organized my finances for living in Chicago next month and even made some very colorful signs for my prosperity jars but I just couldn’t get my Queen on. It seemed like a day in which a two-year-old version of myself was running the show; nothing could make me happy even things that MAKE me happy (music, fruit, going for walks). All I wanted was to throw tantrums and fill the empty house with my pataletas.

Instead I patiently held my two-year-old hand and said it would be ok. So we snuggled in to do some sewing while watching Sense and Sensibility, listening to the bird clock every hour on the hour. We ate cheese, turkey, broccoli, cauliflower, strawberries, maple yogurt and chocolate with almonds for lunch. Yum. And amazingly enough once the movie was over the two year old had a request: to learn one of the songs from the movie on piano. So we found it online, downloaded the sheet music and proceeded to be amazed at how difficult it is. Four, count them, four flats. But it’s beautiful and it uses a part of my brain that is dusty, dried, crinkly and in need of some renovation. I know four measures, cannot play both hands at the same time but am pleased. I noticed it’s one of the many things I love to do: jump in to a project with no realistic idea of its difficulty and thus no preemptive hurdle against its accomplishment. I’ve accomplished many amazing things and reality had nothing to do with them at all. ☺

After that I went for field walk with Ananda. And about 40 paces out my heart was hit. All air rushing out of me and I doubled over, gasping and crying, wailing and snotting all over myself. My heart was breaking again, shifting as it does every now and then these days. It had nothing to do with the pain of missed romantic opportunities, asynchronistic timing with someone I’d have dedicated my life to or even the occasional aching memory of old unrequited love; it was breaking from the pain of not being believed. Of me not believing in it, not trusting its desires.

I love my heart and its endless ability to unconditionally embrace others but these days I’m trying my damnedest to make heart and head a team. Currently, the head holds the most power due to a landslide victory after many a romantic and heart-heavy misadventure (read: learning experience) in my twenties. But while head holds its power, the heart is dismissed.

My heart breaks because it thinks I don’t believe it. It wants me to run with it, with my feelings, to take action, to initiate, to breath life into the hundreds of adventures it has planned for us and for our beloved. I want to say that I DO believe it, that I just need some time. I really want to say that…