Heart Tenders are exactly what they sound like: Things or people or places or anything that tend to your heart. So many things in our lives stress us the F out. Let's give the heart tenders the stage for once!
Here are some of my current heart tenders: *Sandpaper kisses on my forehead in the morning from my calico long haired cat. *My morning routine. (Seriously, how did I ever live without one!?) *Fantasizing about my next travel plan. (Madera, Portugal. Drool....) *Pinching myself for having found creative collaborators in an industry that is often overcrowded with sharks rather than kindred puppy spirits. (Or cats.) *My Samsung Frame TV that looks like art when it's turned off. (So worth it) *Friends. Near and far... strained and close... the older I get the harder it is to gain new close friends, so I treasure the ones I have so very much. *Family. Well... families aren't always heart tenders... but when I watch the news nowadays and my heart sinks over the war in Ukraine and the families and lives that have been broken apart... I can't help but count my lucky stars for my family that is well and healthy even if they are thousands of miles away from me. *Strawberry milkshake from Moon Juice. It reminds me of a drink I had in my childhood. It's ridiculously overpriced but gives my inner child comfort and pazzaz... SO worth it. *Coffee. And just the way I like it: a latte with plant based milk and 1.5 spoons of coconut sugar. Yes, I need to reduce my sugar intake... but let me have my heart tender the way that tends to me most! Extra sweet ;)
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SOUL: What's going on, hun? You look a bit flushed.
HEART: Yeah? I don't know. I just have this feeling. BRAIN: A feeling is an emotional state. SOUL: No kidding, genius. So, feeling, huh? Is this a feeling that you feel deep in your stomach, in the guts? HEART: No, it's a feeling I feel deep in...well... the heart. BRAIN: Feeling can also be described as a belief. SOUL: An intuitive belief, perhaps. HEART: No, no... it's not that. It's a feeling that I cannot quite articulate. It feels like I am being punched repeatedly. Over and over again. Nothing seems to stop it. It's painful, but in some ways I have also gotten used to it. I've normalized it. Accepted it. So it makes it... not that bad... and yet, it's always there... BRAIN: Dread? Resignation? Sorrow? HEART: No, not quite... SOUL: Perhaps it's a fusion of feelings. A merge of sensations... HEART: It's a feeling I've never felt before. How can I possibly articulate a feeling I've never felt before? It's like describing a color that doesn't exist, or cooking without tasting or smelling. Something is lost, is missing. That's it! 'Something's missing.' That's the feeling. That something is missing all the time. What do you call the feeling that 'something is missing?' BRAIN: I think you are referring to depression. SOUL: No, no, no... she is talking about faith. 'I once was lost and now I'm found. I was blind but now I see.' This is why people turn to faith, sugar. To fill the void of what's missing. HEART: But does it ever fill the void? SOUL: To some, yes. To others, no and it perhaps never will. We are all dealing with the same challenge, sugar: we are experiencing what it's like to be human. And that includes all feelings. Even the ones that we don't quite know how to articulate well. Art is amazing, and one doesn't need technological invention to be immersed in it, but every once in a while immersive art exhibits come along and lure me to experiencing art in a different way. For spring equinox, here is little ole' me immersing into spring in a Van Gogh painting: My neighborhood has its... 'charm'; million dollar homes surrounded by an eclectic growing homeless population, occasional theft and craziness and random quirky community happenings like a neon lit bike parade every Sunday. Over the last two years and counting living in this neighborhood, I have not made too many friends (A global pandemic kinda keeps one isolated) but I have had my share of experiences with the folks that occupy this neck of the woods. And today, there is one more 'experience' I can add to the list:
Six months ago, a new neighbor moved in to the apartment below mine. A nurse, or so I understood, and we even exchanged friendly comments to each other in the courtyard. She even left a bag of chocolates at my door as a holiday little gift. However, I also became aware of some strangeness from this neighbor: In passing, she referenced her evangelical belief and how much she adores Israel. Her eyes turned into 'crazy eyes' (bulging, wide, looked like they were about to pop out) as she started spewing some fanatic evangelical belief about the end times, and I quickly assessed: she has a mental illness of some sort. Anyone who is that fanatic of a believer must be a bit off in the head somehow. And especially if they are going on and on about the so called 'end times.' I pulled away from the conversation, needing to shake that toxic feeling she left in me, and didn't think much of it. Not for a little while, at least. Then, a week ago, I woke up in the middle of the night from an obscene sound: it sounded like banging on the ceiling from the apartment below. In the morning, my boyfriend received a message from the neighbor, referring to our home as the 'devil's home' and going on and on about evil forces and our evil deeds. I can't help but feeling a mixture of things: concern, obviously, for my safety given the crazy neighbor has turned her communication into a bizarre aggressive delusional rant, and also anger that this woman wasn't helped by her loved ones. And also perhaps some sadness that nobody is in her life to encourage her to get the mental health help she desperately needs. And also... rage for what I interpret is a hateful antisemitic comment about me as the 'devil.' Today she made that noise again. I went to the window, and at the top of my lungs screamed: 'SHUUUUT UUUUP!' And she did. She so desperately wants a devil - I'll give her a devil. ;) 'The heart breaks To open up. Because only when it's open - It can break again.' Embrace the breakage! The lava! The horror! The drama! The terror, the fear, the sad. The rage, the bitterness, the mad. The HUMAN. When we watch masters performing at peek flow, we transcend with them.
We experience with them a little bit of the mystery of mastery. It leaves us in awe. It takes our breath away. It makes time stops. Today I watched the mystery of mastery at work: I saw a performance of Cirque De Soleil. I smiled and laughed at the universal physical comedy, I shrieked and covered my eyes when the master gymnasts flew in the air, I made audible sounds of 'oh' and 'oohh' as performers blew my mind with the commend of their bodies, ease of their performance and incredible flexibility and strength. In certain moments, I left my body watching these masters leave theirs. I was with them for those single moments. I forgot all notion of identity and self and I was one with them. THAT is the power of artistry, and the mystery of mastery: It connects us. It connects us. It connects us. And for single moments... we are all masters. Purchase tickets for the OVO Cirque De Soleil tour here. A parasite went through me.
Ate me from my insides. Chopped me into a tiny pieces. Nibbled on me. So small. So invisible. So seemingly unthreatening. And yet so present in its existence. He lived to harm me. To shake my world upside down. To take my breath away. To haunt me until I had to faint. To faint in submission. To fall at his alluring feet. I once was strong enough to face a parasite. But no one can withstand a villain such as he. I am merely a woman. I am no match to parasites, as feminine as they may come. I am no match to ambition of the slyest kinds. I am no match to a bad-doer on his conquest. A parasite went through me and shook my world upside down. And now it flew away, to bother some other feline, And what's left is me with my bruised insides and my world apart. Writing about a parasite because I miss him so. Today on set, it occurred to me that most people would credit talent and skill to be of the highest significance in order to have a consistent 'successful' (whatever YOU make of that word) career the insane film industry. But there is one quality that I believe rises well above the other two in its value:
MINDSET (noun) *The established set of attitudes held by someone. Facing rejection, disappointment, ups & downs, lack of stability or consistency, criticism, etc. doesn't stop no matter how 'successful' a person might be in their career. The only control one has... is their mindset, their perspective, their attitude. Bird's eye view flying over some gorgeous landscape: mountains with some left over snow on them, early start of spring reveals buds of flowers and lush grass. Even the bees and butterflies are enjoying the scenery. This could be Switzerland, or the country of Georgia. Uninhibited and raw, but not wild and tropical as, say, Peru.
We stop on a small hill on top of a mountain. Lillies are growing out of it, tanning in the sun. Then... a GRASS COVERED DOOR opens, seemingly coming out of the hill. Out of it, exits a woman who hasn't seen the light of day in what seems like YEARS. She covers her eyes from the sun, her hand shakes in the attempt. It seems she has given all of her remaining strength to open the door from wherever it is she came from. But it also seems like in a different world, a more inhibited world, in a societal world - this woman would welcome the light on her. Her feet are bare but they seem dainty enough that in a different world - she could be wearing the fanciest slippers and most glamorous stiletto heels. Though her feet tremble from standing, in a different world she would be striding her way in avenues of society's chicest cities. She is wearing a simple and somewhat dated beige sweat pants and her nipples perk through her white plain tank top. But in a different world this woman would rock fuchsia colors and sophisticated patterned suits. There is a ring on her finger, the only remnant of a different life. The ring is a simple gold band. It shines in the light, just like the woman, even in her current state. Breathing heavy, the woman begins taking her hands off her eyes. Her eyes are a blue color that seems to have gone bluer with the years, and they drop down like a woman who has seen some sorrow. But her crow's feet wrinkles reveal a woman who has also seen some joy. There is a scar near her lips, a chickenpox scar, perhaps. It adds texture to her otherwise symmetrical face. It adds mystery to an otherwise transparent figure of a woman in trouble, or perhaps a woman who has caused trouble. She looks around her: no one in the distance. And the distance is wide: from this mountain one could see hundreds of miles of landscape and mountains. Her mouth begins to falter, unsure whether it wants to cry or scream in rage. Her hand quickly covers it. If she could only hold it in place, maybe she would be in another place. Any place but this. In her mind she already IS in another place: A memory appears of a hallway. Not an ordinary hallway, if there is such a thing as 'ordinary.' No, this hallway is not as royal as a palace but belongs likely to a wealthy establishment of some sorts. On the walls there are photos, but the memory blurs their faces. We move with this woman's memory, in this hallway, nearly sprinting through to the end of the hallway. Her heels clicking, we look down, the woman's feet are well pedicured in this memory, and she is wearing light summer heels. She breathes heavily, just as she hears a VOICE: Don't say any of this Margaret or the boys. I insist. She stops in her tracks. And we jump out of the memory as swiftly as we entered it. The woman on the mountain is shaking her head and mumbling: Margaret... Margaret... Maggie...No, Margaret... A tear falls from the woman's eye. It could be the sun or it could be the memory. She turns towards the door, looks at the darkness inside it, then turns to look back at the light of the sun. She turns again and enters the door. Overheard in my head:
"I'm late." "Late for what?" "Late to live my life just the way that I want to." But it's never too late. It's never too late to live your life just the way you want to. GO get that dream job you don't dare to dream of. START that business that most likely will fail. Let it fail spectacularly! FOLLOW your heart and ask that person out. They may say no, but if you don't ask - you'll never know. DANCE when no one is watching and when EVERYONE is watching. SMILE and not because some construction guy you walked by told you to. MAKE that art that wants to scream out of you. Make it yours. Make it now. LOVE as if you never loved before. LOVE as if you were born to love. LOVE as if there is nothing else but LOVE. DREAM on. And ON with your dream! |
AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |