Here are two things I know about life. Obviously, there's a hell of a lot more to life than what I'm about to share with you, I know it, you know it - capish? First thing first, the two definite guarantees in life are that there's a beginning to every story and there will be an end. The rest, in my opinion, is a wealth of emotions spanning over the evolution the subjects story.
Emotion being the key word in that sentence. Which is really what this is all about -- the everything else, the emotions-- and thus, the many reasons why I want to start sharing. I will define emotion as the ability to respond with intuitiveness using inadvertently both reasoning and knowledge. Emotion is nothing more than a very natural, instinctive state of mind belonging to the individual, deriving from their circumstances, mood, or relationships with others.
This is a story about my experience. Or in short, every emotion in-between the beginning and end.
Emotion being the key word in that sentence. Which is really what this is all about -- the everything else, the emotions-- and thus, the many reasons why I want to start sharing. I will define emotion as the ability to respond with intuitiveness using inadvertently both reasoning and knowledge. Emotion is nothing more than a very natural, instinctive state of mind belonging to the individual, deriving from their circumstances, mood, or relationships with others.
This is a story about my experience. Or in short, every emotion in-between the beginning and end.
You may realize by now, this is, and will continue to be, an ongoing story that started somewhere and found us right here in the middle, which is technically the beginning to you, but not me; remember that, as we begin this journey together. I will try to fill in the large and small details and catch you up in the parts that allow it.
However, being the subject in the story and the narrator is quite the task. I can't guarantee that everything will be included here. I am still learning the value of emotion and the reality that we all have the same intrinsic value. Which allows for you to insert yourself; to join in on this story. Ask questions that go unaddressed. Consider this your invitation to join in my classroom; and welcome, again! It is better for us to learn together rather than just asking you to watch from the window of clouded assumptions.
Speaking of invitations, to enter this story, I should provide you with more specifics... Here's a little preface to the story. To be exact we are in the Fall of the year 2014 and this place is in the middle of America-- Heartland. I call it Heartland because other people call it that too. Who am I to establish names of places? You don't know who I am yet, but you've probably assumed by the question, I hold no authority to name any proper nouns of the sort.
This next bit may be beside the point, but please allow me to say, that I would never name a place after a part of the human body. Especially the part of the body that is so fantastic physically, and so, wrenchingly honest emotionally. Just to high of an expectation is what I think. I try and keep my expectations as low as possible. I lower my expectations daily; it helps make painstaking routines, and things of that sort, in life a little better.
After reading those last few sentences, I feel obligated to assertively communicate to you, that anything I disclose, express, represent overtly or covertly here, is my opinion and not solicited advice. It's just a story for Pete's sake. Unless, you are the girl with the unkept hair and the múrmúring heart - then this story is for you. You should follow every word spoken, thus saith your Ling Ling, Amen.
Heartland... it is a physical place that feels like its really located in the middle of no where, but it's home, for now. This story is the murmur's of the heart(land). Or, if you're picky, it is the words of my heart's purely epic emotions. So, cross your legs into whatever is most comfortable and stay awhile.
As I mentioned earlier, I am the keeper of the murmuring heart. Yes my hair is always messy. It's habitual and genetic. My name is Lindsey, I go by that or Lyn, or Ling Ling, or Ling, or Winnie (if you're my aunt) or even Linguini.
We-- me and this heart of mine, didn't always belong here - and, still I don't feel like we truly belong here - but, here we are, nonetheless. Plucked-up and transplanted here. Trying to figure out where this story will take us and how it all ties back to the past and, of course, in the future, do our dreams come true or do we learn to dream new dreams.
So, if you already need to adjust your legs, go ahead. This is a long story and I am glad that you are taking a passenger seat for the ride down the blind curves of this road. I would encourage you, as you read about my journey and all my blind curves, to keep moving down the road that you are on currently. Often my path is a very lonely. A force of loneliness to the highest order. What I want more than life is for the hurt to stop, the road to end but then I find someone in the landscape ready to pick me back up and encourage me to go a little farther.
Know that I don't want to discourage you as a reader. Moreover, I extend an opportunity for you to take pause and remember we all have our own unique paths to take. Everyone under the sun is finding their own way around the blind curves in the road.
Remember to listen to your heart and to pace yourself. The landscape is going to change, even when you least expect it. The pause and the waiting and the quiet observing can lend to finding the boldness and courage to seek out the bliss coming around the corner. The path will change in due course, good things can happen.
Life proves to us daily there are no set patterns and it's rarely an orderly succession of events or systematic progress report. There are gentle reminders, during the bad times, that the good will come. Pause often and remember this, because it means more when you reflect on where you've been and remember what loss you've lived through. You lived and it meant more because of the challenges you faced. It makes up the very fiber of your being. The intuitiveness, the reasoning and the knowledge are the true treasures of life that belong to you.
However, being the subject in the story and the narrator is quite the task. I can't guarantee that everything will be included here. I am still learning the value of emotion and the reality that we all have the same intrinsic value. Which allows for you to insert yourself; to join in on this story. Ask questions that go unaddressed. Consider this your invitation to join in my classroom; and welcome, again! It is better for us to learn together rather than just asking you to watch from the window of clouded assumptions.
Speaking of invitations, to enter this story, I should provide you with more specifics... Here's a little preface to the story. To be exact we are in the Fall of the year 2014 and this place is in the middle of America-- Heartland. I call it Heartland because other people call it that too. Who am I to establish names of places? You don't know who I am yet, but you've probably assumed by the question, I hold no authority to name any proper nouns of the sort.
This next bit may be beside the point, but please allow me to say, that I would never name a place after a part of the human body. Especially the part of the body that is so fantastic physically, and so, wrenchingly honest emotionally. Just to high of an expectation is what I think. I try and keep my expectations as low as possible. I lower my expectations daily; it helps make painstaking routines, and things of that sort, in life a little better.
After reading those last few sentences, I feel obligated to assertively communicate to you, that anything I disclose, express, represent overtly or covertly here, is my opinion and not solicited advice. It's just a story for Pete's sake. Unless, you are the girl with the unkept hair and the múrmúring heart - then this story is for you. You should follow every word spoken, thus saith your Ling Ling, Amen.
Heartland... it is a physical place that feels like its really located in the middle of no where, but it's home, for now. This story is the murmur's of the heart(land). Or, if you're picky, it is the words of my heart's purely epic emotions. So, cross your legs into whatever is most comfortable and stay awhile.
As I mentioned earlier, I am the keeper of the murmuring heart. Yes my hair is always messy. It's habitual and genetic. My name is Lindsey, I go by that or Lyn, or Ling Ling, or Ling, or Winnie (if you're my aunt) or even Linguini.
We-- me and this heart of mine, didn't always belong here - and, still I don't feel like we truly belong here - but, here we are, nonetheless. Plucked-up and transplanted here. Trying to figure out where this story will take us and how it all ties back to the past and, of course, in the future, do our dreams come true or do we learn to dream new dreams.
So, if you already need to adjust your legs, go ahead. This is a long story and I am glad that you are taking a passenger seat for the ride down the blind curves of this road. I would encourage you, as you read about my journey and all my blind curves, to keep moving down the road that you are on currently. Often my path is a very lonely. A force of loneliness to the highest order. What I want more than life is for the hurt to stop, the road to end but then I find someone in the landscape ready to pick me back up and encourage me to go a little farther.
Know that I don't want to discourage you as a reader. Moreover, I extend an opportunity for you to take pause and remember we all have our own unique paths to take. Everyone under the sun is finding their own way around the blind curves in the road.
Remember to listen to your heart and to pace yourself. The landscape is going to change, even when you least expect it. The pause and the waiting and the quiet observing can lend to finding the boldness and courage to seek out the bliss coming around the corner. The path will change in due course, good things can happen.
Life proves to us daily there are no set patterns and it's rarely an orderly succession of events or systematic progress report. There are gentle reminders, during the bad times, that the good will come. Pause often and remember this, because it means more when you reflect on where you've been and remember what loss you've lived through. You lived and it meant more because of the challenges you faced. It makes up the very fiber of your being. The intuitiveness, the reasoning and the knowledge are the true treasures of life that belong to you.
