Eraser of the Heart

A tree I had not met, a rock or feather I had not found and a path that I had not walked called me to come and find.  May my life always be a treasure hunt to see each moment as a wonder and surprise. Discovering the treasures awaiting me and leaving my own for others to find.  

My Story is not written by the hands of others nor the physical. My Self's story is written by the heart. I can tell you the story others would tell of me. Or I can tell you the Story I know. These scriches I write tell the latter, each word an eraser so that only one Story my little heart knows. So off to nature I went to find the tree, rock or feather and the path. To sit with the paper of the soul, the eraser of the Heart, and to discover the treasures waiting, leaving a prayer here and there that others would find what simple gifts I have left for them to find.

Unshared Invitation

We can share with others our irrational and angry side. We can share our political, parental and even childrearing expressions and opinions.  Even the child in us, now a parent to the parent shares what is right and should be done’s.  We can express and claim our needs and rights to the stop sign or to go the speed limit (or better) to the drivers in front of us.  We share our impulsive side, our silly and romantic expressions and needs.  As managers, employees, citizens and consumers we freely share the unmet needs. 

Why then, is it so hard, perhaps even rare, for the naked soul and heart to quietly whisper to another, “I hurt” or “I need”?  Is there no invitation?

May my heart and spirit, with all their shortcomings and small wisdom, always offer to another, the comfort and invitation of uttering such a whisper.