We struggle to decipher the complexies of life. Human relationships ~ old wounds, new wounds. But our greatness isn't in the figuring. It isn't in the math.

We are such busy beings! There is a seductive comfort in the figuring. We seem built for it ~ our minds wrap around our human quandaries and stick like honey on bread. But it is the business of walking in place, this chatter, loudly treading water, drowning out the sound of truth.

Coelho wrote, "A boat is safest when docked at the port, but that's not what a boat was built for."

There is comfort in the ports of figuring, but we are built to take the journey that starts with the untethering. Our greatness begins when we look to the oceanic horizon and realize its home.  

Subtleties have their charm.

It's lovely to whisper,

to simply hold hands,

to decide to make due,

to live light and quiet.

Palms down.

Me, contained and neat. 

Ah but there are times that I just need it all.

I need to shout.

I want that juicy kiss.

I'm hungry for more than what's due.

And I live, thick and loud.

Palms up.

Me, all over and messy.

Paint in my hair.

Dirt on my knees.

Sunburn on my nose. 

And when I rest my head...

I crinkle my nose,

Feel a soft, playful sting, that makes me smile into my pillow,

And I sleep, deep and well.