Heart Space Coherence

(unravelling the mess)

Notes from the Top

This month has been unusually busy for me, so I’ve had less time for making art.

Navigating life takes it toll and the world is fractious, and bleak (as always), but not for the delightful little girl dancing in the café where I sit as I write this.

Our hearts are the best part of us, but we lose innocence, wonder, enthusiasm and joy. Yet, there’s a redemption arc to be found almost always. This is the magic of hearts: Hearts are transmutative.

Khalil Gibran said it very well:

Excerpt from On Joy and Sorrow.

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Khalil Gibran 1883-1931.

The poems below are about heart spaces; in all their awkward glory.

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i have been loved
(all my life)

i have been loved 
on weekends and weekdays
saturdays and sundays
fridays and mondays
tuesdays, thursdays
and wednesdays too

i have been loved 
on birthdays, anniversaries
funeral days and death days
at christmas, new years
and st valentine’s days
on bad days and good days

i have been loved
in morning rituals
in heartbeats exchanged
before a ringing clock
in leftover coffee grounds
freshly baked bread
warm turmeric ginger milk
spicy butternut soup
chocolate beetroot ice cream
and the smell of fresh cardamom

i have been loved
with words and paintings
by witches and pirates
on guitar strings
with dog kisses
and sword fights
lego airships
twice dissected rebuilt electronics
greasy engine oil changes
roadtrips and food gatherings
in success and failure
as a truculent troglodyte
often too often i fear
in every laugh-hug-tear

i have been loved
but somedays too busy 
to notice 
the quiet present-gifts 
of eyes-hearts-hands-skin-lips
soothing voices and finger tips
of creative kindness

for all the drops of love
that have watered my soul
filled my cup 
which was sometimes empty
sometimes overflowing
thank you 
for i have been loved
all my life

---

Notes on "i have been loved"

It’s easy to forget over the years (specially when you’re angry or hurt or upset) the little details that glue us together relationally. Our hearts are watered drop by drop as deposits accumulate. And, sometimes, all at once, they overflow: When you realize the truth: It was there all the time: Magic.

---

for a love poem
(underneath the arguments)

these are things 
we forget to remember
when too-complex-justified-arguments 
compel hands into fists
raised voices into crescendos
arms into armaments

prised open sacred spaces
where bullets fly
bombs explode
rockets launch
mines laid down
war zones declared

and the moral ambiguity 
of those who live in grey 
between borders is questioned
as if co-existence is inappropriate
apart-hate the norm

what is anyone 
except skin and bone
flesh and blood 
sand and stone 
made animate into form

politicians making arguments
began to breakdown 
eroding into their constituents
for a love poem hidden underneath
was revealed 
and a map of heaven laid out 
in the scars of a demons face
affirming a story of hurt 
as nothing but a brush stroke in the sand

---

Notes on “for a love poem”

We are so committed to getting our dues; on both sides. It’s as though we forget that we’re just sand and water made corpuscular for an ephemeral instance in time.

This last poem is new. Enjoy!

heart space coherence
(is a practical practice)

heart spaces are alive
with sacred graces
rituals and practices
of people and places

an intermingled web
silken kindness 
knitting a fabric of intimacy
with careful magic threads 

here and there:
in flotsam and jetsam
go pieces of this and that
recollected memories
knick-knacks and curious
bits of bric-a-brac

words imbibed from
forgotten conversations
friends/lovers/parents 
long gone

photos in a sock drawer
pressed flowers in a book
notes in yesterday's journal margins 
that hat that doesn't belong

these kept coins 
from a foreign country 
never to be visited again

in a temporary moment: 
i loved you
for unravelling my heart space 
and while doors open and close; 
the lingering texture 
enlivens the room
an aftertaste:
saffron on rice

knock once, knock twice
maybe more, but don't wait 
at the door — nostalgia 
is poison which can leave your 
heart sore; letting go is the 
pottery taken out of the oven 
for service elsewhere

so, enjoy those moments 
which set your heart
a flutter and take care to be 
present before the smell
of burnt butter

for heart spaces are fragile
imperfect cul-de-sacs
placeholders for soft soul 
confectionary; celebrations
of misrendered confetti
quiet-quaint rhythms 
moving gingerly/coherently
with good and bad timing; 
tears and laughter 
as a matter of course

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