I was going to write this:  It is my personality to try to fit in smaller spaces.  Really though, I will write this:  I try to fit in empty spaces, barren, naked places.  Some people use clutter to hide.  I use a desert, maybe a big one.  This quandary of scarcity has been a way for me to hide in emptiness.  It comes from a belief in me that I don’t need (read: deserve) much and will fit just fine in this vast wide space  that I create wherever I go.  The most convenient venue for this space is my mind.  So I may be sitting in a room full of people and be not seen.  In the physical space I am in, I minimize, but inside I am wandering the universe.

If you are reading this and you work with me you will be saying to yourself that I am bullshitting for the sake of a post that fits a feng shui photo.  True, I can fill a room at work but I can also be quite hard to know at work.  The times that I have opened my heart to my work colleagues are rare.  I tend to be hiding behind the work.   The next patient, the next operation create a busy-ness that I use to protect myself, how I create the space I think I need to be safe.  Having the kiddo has definitely started to blur the lines, thankfully.  I smile some, I remember my heart at work.  I see the hearts of the people I work with .  Also, when I let my patients break through, it is wonderful, and healing.

This tendency to isolation/space sounds romantic, but it sets up in me a greedy feeling that I don’t have enough, a kind of desperation.  The desperation arises from the habit of applying my poor, unskilled mind to make up for the lack of connection that my deeply feeling heart craves.  My brain tries to do the math, but laughter, love, joy aren’t experienced by the numbers, and neither is loneliness.  I try to puzzle loneliness into an equation of solitude.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes it is the truth, but lots of times fear keeps me frozen in the desert of isolation.  This makes my heart ache.

Taking the pictures helps me know the truth, writing forces the wonder of art in to my brain and stops the logical nonsense, reminds me of everything roiling in my heart, a foot below my brain.  It brings the love.






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4 Responses to Scarce

  1. Bobbi says:

    Here’s to blurring the lines.

  2. Stephen Parkhurst says:

    I really like this post. I agree with Bobbi.

  3. Stephanie says:

    I am honored to have seen the inside of your heart on more than one occasion…but I also have seen you hide. I am so proud of you for allowing yourself to blur the lines and let your heart show through at work…and I know your patients are quite appreciative as well. I continue to wish that I could see the changes Aidan has brought in you in person…soon. I miss you and wish you & Rose & Aidan all the joy and happiness those blurred lines may bring.

  4. Celina says:

    That your dessert is beautiful is a given- as always.I am always in awe how you take a reicep,simple or complex and seem to turn them out beautifully, effortlessly. Now you've made me curious about the book 🙂

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