Thursday, May 17, 2012

The power of art to reach the heart.

I heard the phrase on the radio, in a song. "I hope you know", the refrain went, and my heart skipped a beat.  Tears followed, and lips trembled. I hope you know how much you were loved, I murmured to myself, speaking to my dead son.

What we don't say can cover volumes. We are filled with joy and sorrow and doubt and anxiety in a single moment, and what comes out of our mouths is barely representative of our status. I could use a cappuccino right now, I say out loud, meaning I'm thirsty for comfort, for a moment to re-assess, a moment to wipe the face, blow the nose, let the cat out and wander off in the woods. I want to shout out to the Universe, I hope you know too!

We  guess people's frame of mind when we see them, when we read their notes,  missives, jokes, comments on Facebook. How we shout constantly, yet no one ever hears the real us. We are glimmers of life in a desert, tiny signals, easily missed .

I envy the writers, the painters, the singers, the artists who are not afraid to lay their hearts out in small doses. They too are sending signals hoping we learn their truths: one brush stroke at a time, one note at a time, one phrase at a time.


  1. I think I enjoy writing poetry (certainly not well) and reading others' poems and prose because it provides a tiny glimpse into who they are, what motivates and moves them, what makes them tick. Writing from that 'place deep inside' makes it virtually impossible to hide. I want my children and grandchildren to read my online words long after I'm gone.

  2. You do a better job than you know expressing the inexpressible. I can never understand exactly how you feel -- no one of us can, but I come away with a sense of the depth of your loss. It's good that you are writing about it.

  3. I look at my sons and my heart breaks, thinking of you. I just can't imagine the strength you must have.

  4. what paradox that no matter how visible we are inside these bodies (ever the more visible and invisible in the technological world) so much remains hidden. is this because we choose it of ourselves AND of one another? is it because we choose it of life? i realized once that we live life in terms as as much as we can bear. that which we can not we lay cover to. but what we can bear can be exercised and through growth - well, more endurance results AND more light!)))))

    but sometimes, well, we are only human and pain is pain after all.

    thank god for the artists that put us to our mettle. god/creation/being must have been/is one hell of an artist. we are put to the mettle each day.


  5. Again, speak our truth. Gives meaning to "a voice crying in the wilderness."

  6. love is spoken in many ways
    thank goodness
    ....he did......and you from him
    and I thank you fo sharing this

  7. You write the words of my heart. "I hope you know how much you were loved," conveys so many more emotions. I wish I could identify them all sometimes, and speak the words to convey all that I feel.

  8. Oh I was thinking just this last evening, out loud with my friend. I can read about a person, and what do I know of them? I barely know myself. And yes, so often people are hiding pain, or harboring resentment, and all the while putting on a smile.