Danny James

Tag: heart

510: thrive

Autonomy – freedom to choose

Mastery – opportunity to be challenged, to enjoy the challenge, and improve

Purpose – contributing something meaningful to the Whole

508: Space

How long you have denied the mind it’s quiet and the skin it’s thrill. The gentle heart, enthralled and contained, the space to replevin and elate.

499

To climb again, your fallen hopes permit.
To wonderment return, against cleverness resist.
Though furthest have you wandered you are least forgot,

please, homeward steer your aching heart
and do not for anything stop.

491

I am considered a misanthropist now and then, because I do not socialize with many people. But it’s only my mind that avoids you, my heart is still with you, and seeks the distance so that it can keep on loving you.

Franz Grillparzer

488: Sally in the Sun

The realisation had barely settled upon the consciousness when my face had been brought home into Sally’s hands. As she whispered my name and drew close, I caught in the instant, the glimmer of long obstructed joyousness in her eyes. Suddenly, with space enough to run, and a great gasp of the soul free in the world at last.

We stood there awhile, utterly delighted and engrossed with each other, amid the crowd before the coal-face of Friday night service dissolving. They’ve occurred before in glimpses, perfect these gaps of Nature, and you’ve figured since you couldn’t be granted many more miracles similar.

We talked at the centre of a hurricane with the sun smiling perfectly overhead at the mouth. Actualized and fully engaged with the moment, we felt the surge of a vast and thrilling current, brimming to the surface yet remained all the while at ease in the deep and holy intoxication that overlapped our traumas.
”I didn’t want to interrupt,” She said genuine, unblinking and ablaze. I wished as soon as it left her lips that she had, and I would have immediately let my responsibilities crumble for the encounter.
I couldn’t help but consider, as Sally spoke how that if she were not already spoken for, her hands were a perfect fit for mine; her waist, impossibly alluring and I could see us laughing at many good times gone by as we lay next to each other on a sunlit hillside overlooking the Steel City, some years ahead of tonight. Just as I had finished imagining these things Sally had motioned with a sideways glance and rather quickly, that she was in fact here with her fianc√© and his family celebrating, something that I couldn’t quite translate through appreciating the rapture of her returning smile. Sally was always so infectiously easygoing and buoyant about the future and yet I was detecting somewhere here with her, moments of stuttered thought and a gazing solemnity with but a whit of an unresolved irritation.

We parted with proprieties and cautious glances and that, I estimated was unfortunately to be the necessary end. Stricken is the heart under spell of the imagination.

419: The passing of time, in the shade of stirring trees

How much blessing here, among this holy mountain expanse and crystal air. Surely could one remain here his days with no troubles gather, abolished of all trial and desire. O Nature, she draws me so soundly, my hopes are with the clouds these grateful days, I cannot resist their charm. I’d enjoy to watch them sail on forever and nothing more. Grant me this one request skies; a heart that is placid, free and attuned, for now and all the time that is remaining to me.

407: Immunity

Not dwelling or striving, but temporarily aside and exempting the heart from all that does not invest in its health. The good men were grave, and yet held always protected a sublime resplendence in reserve for the first ray of morning light over the edge.

402

Write it. Cast the overflow of your grateful heart toward the white clouds, peaceable there over the mountains, might it carried be lovingly, like a Dandelions seed on the wind across a whispering field. How pleasant for them, upon whose shoulder might your words fall, wondering and in desert.

389: To the light

A man enters a valley such as this, and at last he is quiet. All of his grandeur immediately and rightly disperses into nothingness. A most natural and healthy state is surely quickened to the light.

Patagonia, 2013 - 2014

Patagonia, 2013 – 2014

376: Wonderfully optimistic man

And he took his torment with a calm of one in maturity and well versed in the stirrings of the heart and human behaviour. Else what could he do, but what he could do? Which he was discovering only as he did. The heaviness of heart when it comes to mind too late, that it has all settled into place and some of the pieces are lost. And so would you never know to come across his path, that glowed subtly like a Summer afternoon, a kind of washed milky glow like a smile withheld but radiating from the heart, that all he wanted was for her words to fill his space again, and her eyes to find him so that he could melt into their orbit and stay there adrift and free, but never again, O lost. The object of his affection and duty was gone and he could not find her. His connection removed, deleted, though remains the circuitry, he fumbled the new reality. Wandered without aim the weary watchmen with no guard to keep and habits of service still strong in him, lacerating each time with the bitterness of their precision. Trudging forward, broken and decommissioned, by old emotions and automation haunted. A wreckage convulsing to the streams of recollective bites and static of memory. Some days worse. And though limped his soul, charged and recoiled in reflex of binary opposing instincts, survived in him still a restless vigour quietly pressing on, devoted as ever to the faith that each hurt is somehow a gain accumulating, and a needed provision for enduring the road few endure, toward mastery. He Went about his day, sacredly and silently, human and whole as could. Made his bed, did well his work. Adopted new routine, and perfected the humdrum attention to details that would add-up. Not to distract but to cultivate a reaquaintence with the things that were truly his, and the habit of durability. A certain authority develops recognising thus what can one control, taking all else with a contemplative distance, and so this way, he managed to salvage his days. Went home to his chamber each night, concentrating his thanksgiving into the sky, stifling who he was before and burying his grief deep into the soil of memory, than rather cast it off to winds of past. He would keep it, always, and would use it in methods of reminder and lesson, uncommon to the defeatist who go nowhere, value nothing good and complain that providence hath not with progress their luxuriousness of inaction graced. And he knew through it all, what survivors know best; that when descends hardship, or fortune rains favour: no grief is final, no joy is everlasting and are both at times satisfying and intolerable and entirely manifest of the mind. Only patience builds the strength, by difficulty and effort revealed. He was getting back day by day, who he might become and it would take as long as it takes.