sometimes i think i think too much

Here sits me, pondering the vagaries of the human heart.

"I hate you! I hate you! As much as I love you, that's how much I hate you!" he screamed at me, after one particularly nasty argument. Shocking flexibility, this thing called a heart, both the part that is blood and beating muscle, and the mysterious space between the cells. What gives us the ability to bounce back from a stopped heart? That can be explained, scientifically. But what gives us the ability to soar and sink and then soar again? To hurt beyond physical pain only to rejoice later? God only knows. Which just begs the question, what is God? And around we go.

Applying reason and logic, I can comprehend the mechanisms for both strengthening the physical muscle fibers and for improving the communication that supposedly emanates from that place. There are tools and techniques. I can deciper how to make an emotional connection through touch and action, how to express need and not judgement, how to use my words. But how to hope, how to pray, how to love, heal, burn, how to forget--these things defy gravity and all other physical laws. They are made of the interstitial ghost-stuff that lies between.

I have no answers to the mystery. I hope you weren't reading this far in hopes of finding some, on this lovely Valentine's day. I would say, "Ask me when I'm ninety," but I'm not so sure, even then, that things will be made clear to me.