Heart

Even now, after all these years, when stressed I sometimes can't think clearly. I almost panic. I can write it out, but don't ask me to spell it out for you verbally, whatever we may be discussing, if I'm stressed.

 

Recently for instance a man asked me why I liked him. The sad commentary on his part is he suggested perhaps I liked him because of his vocation (which I know little to nothing about). Exposing my emotions to him was highly uncomfortable for me and not likely to end well. I asked him if I could write it out ...firm no. Well okay, you will get a less than articulate brief summary. 

 

And it was an inarticulate, brief, incomplete summary. All true, but not what I wanted to say. 

 

This is what I liked about him, a lot:

 

His heart. His gentle badass heart. I sensed his heart-man early during our time together. Seldom did I see or hear the real him. Oh, but when I did, the beauty of it all took my breath away. I could be sharing poetry with him, mine, or another writer, and when the words clicked with him, I would sense peace in his demeanor. Complete peace. As quickly as it fell into place—the peace—the guard was back firmly protecting a strange and palpable facade. 

 

No, dear, dear friend, my love for you has nothing to do with that which I know little about. And it has everything to do with your beautiful, gentle, guarded heart. That and I'm pretty sure you 'get' me. Not many do. 

 

Isn't that how we should always learn about folks, from inside out, rather than what the world tells them (or us) makes them special or successful? Anything else is icing on the cake. 

 

To this day I don't know much about the man except that beautiful heart. 

 

Money can't buy and intelligence can't finagle a heart like that. 

 

It was simple, really. 

 

Just like me. 

 

Uncomplicated.

 

It is God made specialness my friend.