wisdom.

Sometimes, when I obviously have nothing better to do, I ponder the meaning of "wisdom." When are you wise? How do you know you have wisdom? How come most wisdom resides with older people?

Here's what I've figured out so far: knowledge is all inside the brain. Knowledge is facts. Wisdom, though, seems to be those facts getting translated through the heart. Wisdom, it appears, needs some level of compassion or heartbreak or joy in its purist form, to be real wisdom. You can't be wise if you don't use your heart. One's knowledge, moved through the heart, becomes wisdom.

There's my deep thought for the week. I need a nap.

supposed to.

The worst thing about heartbreak is the loss of these ridiculous expectations we make for the future. I wanted to be with my forever-partner right now. I wanted to be buying a house. I wanted to be buying crap for the house, painting walls, planting gardens. There are things I wanted to be doing. There were expectations. I was supposed to be getting married sometime soon. It was an expectation.


Then you learn to live day by day. Because there's no other way to survive. The heart is a piece of lead in bad times; its weight anchors me to the floor, the bed, the sofa, wherever. I have trouble just going for a walk beneath its gruesome bearing. The bed becomes a small pool in which I choose to submerge; each morning, purging the water from my lungs, I struggle to move, to rise up, to exercise the dog. The brain does not have space for tomorrow; it has space only for right now, and what's next, and now what? The mind and the heart argue, like angry parents, father and mother, logic and love. 


Sometimes, it seems as though there will be no tomorrow. What's the point? Other times, tomorrow is the only thread holding you together. Because if you can just make it through today...

you decide.

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