I find the ebb and flow of desire interesting. Most days, desire remains a quiet hum within my chest. Some days, however, my heart beats so hard as my heart launches a full attack in the absence of a hope fulfilled the heart burn feels as though I am loosing a silent war.
And then there are times when I have a moment, just a pause, where the hum becomes a beating that massages my desire and then releases into a quiet rest.
Tonight was one of those moments as I was walking home. I passed the 8-10 year old boys doing pushups in full football gear as if racing the last bit of light before we were all pitched into black sky at 6:00pm with short releaf from the lamposts.
This image plucked my heart to feel what it would be like to have a young son come home from practice smelly with sweat recounting the tackles and drills starving for food and attention. How my heart beat fast at the thought of that kind of beauty – of a mother and son – beauty reflected and multiplied.
Then I came home to a cat that demanded food and attention and my reaction was anything but warm and giving. A cat.
How often do we build our ideas of what life could be like on dreams whispered by moments as fickle as the wind that speak in a tone of longing and tainted with emptiness?
When we build our ideas with dreams created by fantasy we then become disillusioned by the reality.
When the reality of the moment is a quiet hum of contentment of the heart at rest.