+ Her Barefoot Heart

Tag: rocks

stories seen and unseen

Heartrock

Stories are what make us . . . not the other way around. ~ Roger Housden

One day, perhaps for no discernible reason, you decide you want to dig up that cute little heart shaped rock and take it home. You get down on your knees and brush the dirt away. You dig at it with a trowel, trying to unearth it, and in the process, you find that it’s only heart-shaped because of the way the dirt has piled up around it, giving it shape and defining it as a heart. Through continued digging you discover that it’s not just a cute little heart-shaped rock, after all, but a part of something bigger – something much, much bigger.

The digging is hard work in and of itself, and that’s why some people prefer to enjoy the cute little heart-shaped rock as it is, to leave it undisturbed . . . which is absolutely fine. Whether you want to leave it as the heart-shaped rock you’ll enjoy on your walks or unearth the boulder and see what bedrock you’re walking on, perhaps you’d like to join the Keepsake Writing Tribe. We kick off on Saturday, 2/15 and we saved you a seat.

84

lines stitched:

(the fabric is white,
it just looks blue
because of the time of day
i finished stitching.)
(it does kinda’ match my mood, though.)

84b

things line up.
sometimes clearly,
sometimes chaotically.
sometimes they line up just the way we wanted them to,
sometimes they line up in ways we could not have foreseen,
even in our wildest imagination.
sometimes they line up all nice and neat,
sometimes you have to put on your best creativity hat
and squint your eyes
to see that they line up at all.

sometimes a line is straight
sometimes a line is curved.

sometimes a line goes straight from point a to point b
sometimes a line loops back and forth all over itself
but still arrives somewhere.

sometimes a line is a letter
sometimes a line is a number.

sometimes a line is an object,
sometimes a line is a feeling.

sometimes the shortest distance between two points
is not, in fact, a straight line.

keep the lines open.
tow the line.
draw the line.
hold the line.

sometimes a line moves,
sometimes a line stays in one place for so long,
it becomes wallpaper.

sometimes a line tells a story,
sometimes a line show the way.

sometimes the line screams STOP
and trips you up if you don’t heed.

sometimes a line marks the sweet spot,
the finish line,
sometimes a line of demarkation warns us
to stay the hell away.

and that’s just the way it is,
as far as i can tell.

lines drawn:

5 84 1 erased

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.