There will always be a horizon. A day set apart for making extravagant displays of love—St Valentine's—may appear to be a horizon in itself, but it's really only a vantage point from which to view the various glimmers and glistenings happening everywhere and everytime else and other.
Looking out to horizons in the coming year, my slowly focusing lens keeps on with its fixation on scruffy glinting objects at my toes, distracting from the unwieldy temptation to skip today and grab tomorrow; or the temptation to forget about tomorrow and be restrained by what failed to happen yesterday.
Forget about the horizon for a minute - what do we have in the frame today?
This year, I'm trying not to make goals so much as be glad of my gifts. If I treasure these little blessings everyday, then perhaps the goals will make—and realise—themselves.
"The heart bears indentations of yesterday's child"
Oh yes, the heart really does. These hearts really do. Hearts bear indentations, and they are all gifts. Dirty, messed up, grubby and flawed gifts, the lot of them.
A post-Valentine's post, because as I suggested this time last year here and there it's not all containable in one day, but rather all the small gestures in every other day of the year where love is really found.
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I've been singing this song all night long.
{Today's Soundtrack: Lucy Rose - Scar}
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