The pedestrian heart

I don’t want my old heart back. I’ve thought a great deal about this.

rope-667267_640As hearts go, it wasn’t bad. It clocked in every day: tick. Tick. Clock out. Tock. It was sturdy, dependable, reasonably good at reacting when called upon during a run or musical or while petting a dog. I once heard my heartbeat during an EKG. There it was, ka-thump, ka-thump. Steady companion. I had never before heard the sound of my own insides, of that soft soldier muscle, completing its unremarkable task though no one had ever asked it to, though no one would tell it when to stop. What a lonely job, beating away at no one, nothing. Because you’re just built that way.

I have a new one now. It’s a heart-shaped supernova; a big burst of light streaking across a dark ending. It’s not yet fully formed, though I try to bulk it up with little losses here and there. It’s just so hard to give your heart away and trust that it will come back in the same condition. But here’s one thing I know: it won’t. Ever. No matter how big or how little the transaction.

I spent years saving myself up for the right person, the right job, the right resting place — holding my softest parts in reserve for the eventual apocalypse. And then there it was one day, the apocalypse and the high-pitched whistle of the morning after. All that remained after the blast was a long winter and my old tender parts, stored on the top shelves like rations for a new age.

On some other morning months later I crossed a line that I did not even see. And now the game is all new — the object is to give myself away at every turn. Though, truth is, there is nothing at the other end of the rope except my old, pedestrian heart, beating reliably at no one, nothing, until it stops.

 

 

 

One thought on “The pedestrian heart

  1. Thanks kate for stringing words together that sometimes carries thoughts well, no where in particular yet, look out, right in the gut and your down for the count of – who knows how long. My heart mindlessly pumps until pumping simply can’t continue; and for fleeting moments or in a gap I know not where I lose precious times not missed clearly until that doomsday parade of banners passes you; barely recognizing what i should have held onto.

    Let me shout in all directions in the round; move so I can’t avoid my dusty shadows. Then freeze in a vertical pose until every dust particle enveloping my soul gently become ground cover. The clearly mounting silence buffering ego strivings, your soft shoe meandering become unassuming convictions to live to grow untethered.

    Your journey thus taken adds a syncopated rhythm of continued knowingness. I am so thankful my heart with every la-boom is my drummer and I do solo adventures. And if I happen upon another solo artist maybe we will connect, sparks fly, energies get absorbed. What a blessing if we travel on parallel paths whereupon her energy and mine sensitize and introduce new energies.

    Mysterious is the search for my energy sources. Fantastic when I can ride those energy flows. Awesome the chasm of depth or nothingness and harder yet to traverse the poles with ease. Some call if being resilient to any and all changes happening. The capacity of all things occurring at once is rare only because our brains can’t take all of it in at once. Some call it multi-tasking; others say that’s not possible. Still others we can only be effective by doing one thing at a time.

    Yet to optimize our time here; we should observe all choice options, prioritize the order you want to do them and keep adjusting all known variable until we can’t do them anymore or die. Well, also important to enjoy whatever we can along the way.

    Upon final analysis isn’t life a perpetual riddle?

    Maybe kinda like:

    “You remind me of a guy”
    “What guy?”
    “The guy with the “Who-do”
    “Who-do?”
    “You do!”
    “I do what?”
    “You remind this guy, named Bill”
    “Whose Bill, I’m Bob!”
    “Oh, sorry, yet you remind me of this guy”
    “What guy?”
    “Jack”
    “What Jack?”
    “Don’t you remember Jack?”
    “No, Don’t remember Jack!”
    “You still rem end me of this guy”
    “What guy?”
    “The guy with the Who-do”
    “Who do?”
    “You do!”

    ps: life is like that sometimes – how – well, if I have to draw you a diagram – forget it Charlie! Who you calling Charlie?

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