Maya Angelou once said, "The idea is to write it so that people hear it and it slides through the brain and goes straight to the heart." Apparently, she's a poet—well, according to wikipedia at least; nevertheless, I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that she might know a little something something about what she's talking about. Her inspiring words really underscore the idea that writing is one of the most critical skills we pick up as children. We know how to write the words "cat" and "dog"; "family" and "love"; and even "honesty" and "loyalty" long before we know what those words really mean. Okay, maybe a few of you knew what a "cat" or a "dog" was as kids but I'm trying to repress a traumatizing childhood memory of being chased by a tiny poodle in the park so work with me here.
Another word that I remember learning as a kid was "heart." I didn't know what it meant. It was supposed to look something like ♥ but with tubes and holes for the blood to go through. But, it came to mean so much more. Something about the heart made my Mum wake up extra early to make me paratas for breakfast before I left for school. Somewhere in the heart I was supposed to dig, dig deep, to play harder on the basketball courts. Some voice from the heart was supposed to stop me from turning into Pinocchio and teach me right from wrong. This heart, it was the place I was supposed to reach into when my body was exhausted, when my efforts were met with failure, and when I still needed to keep going.
I've read anatomy books about it. I've googled it. I've even google imaged it, albeit with my safesearch settings at "moderate." I've seen corny movies about it and even seen people cry over it. I even went as far as taking a picture of my heart at work. And yes, that is actually MY heart's electrical activity you see up there. At the end of the day, in spite of holding it close to my heart—pun intended—for so many years, I'm still not completely sure of all that a "heart" can do.
Keep em' coming.
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