Reflections: The Broken And Mended Hearts Store…
“Most things break, including hearts. The lessons of life amount not to wisdom, but to scar tissue and callus.” Wallace Stegner
Resume by Dorothy Parker
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp;
Guns aren’t lawful;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Have you ever had a broken heart? How did you mend it? If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell? Food? Clothing? Books? Salves to mend what ails us? This Plinky prompt on what we would sell in a store got me thinking about how terrific it would be to own a magical place where broken hearts and wounded hearts were mended. It would be a place sprinkled with angel dust and filled with healing salves from heaven. As I searched around for relevant poems and information to share, I came across the wonderful and real organization – Mended Hearts. They visit patients recovering from heart surgery and bring them big red heart pillows. They follow up post surgery with support and love. Read here About Mended Hearts.
“It is a curious sensation: the sort of pain that goes mercifully beyond our powers of feeling. When your heart is broken, your boats are burned: nothing matters any more. It is the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.” George Bernard Shaw
The Broken Heart by William Barnes
News o’ grief had overteaken
Dark-eyed Fanny, now vorseaken;
There she zot, wi’ breast a-heaven,
While vrom zide to zide, wi’ grieven,
Vell her head, wi’ tears a-creepen
Down her cheaks, in bitter weepen.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An’ there wer still the hans that tied it
Or wringen tight,
In ceare that drowned all ceare bezide it.
When a man, wi’ heartless slighten,
Mid become a maiden’s blighten,
He mid cearelessly vorseake her,
But must answer to her Meaker;
He mid slight, wi’ selfish blindness,
All her deeds o’ loven-kindness,
God wull waigh ’em wi’ the slighten
That mid be her love’s requiten;
He do look on each deceiver,
He do know
What weight o’ woe
Do break the heart ov ev’ry griever.
Then, I came across a blog offering tips and a survey to help heal a broken heart. Start Here: 15 Healing Steps. When life throws us a nasty curve ball, it would be helpful to resume living, as Dorothy suggests in the first poem above, but also to have a magical place with healing resources to visit. Of course, this is pure fantasy but indulge me for a moment… Instead of more shops filled with trinkets, toys and the usual tchotchke, why not have a healing store that soothes and mends our broken hearts, replacing our pain with comfort and joy? Barnes poem above shares the agony of a broken heart… Read it phonetically. More below. 😉
“A pain stabbed my heart as it did every time I saw a girl I loved who was going the opposite direction in this too-big world.” Jack Kerouac
Mending Wall by Robert Frost
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors‘.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets and Mending Wall offers lots of insight on building bridges to peace and friendship. Will these save us from the heartache that seems to be our human lot? Perhaps not, but at least, we can spend some time reading Frost as we thaw from the frigid rain of unrequited love or from Cupid’s arrow gone amiss. Cheer up… This too shall pass. The Broken and Mended Hearts store is around the corner waiting for you to begin to feel restored.
What are your thoughts? Have ever had a broken heart? How did you mend it? Do you have any stories to share? What memories of either come to mind? Do share! Thank you. 😉
This post was inspired by a prompt from WP Plinky: If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell? Food? Clothing? Books?
*Please bear with me as I continue to catch up on your blogs and commenting… Thank you all for your patience! 🙂
Positive Motivation Tip: A broken heart can be mended with care, love, patience and a salve from heaven…
PHOTO CREDITS/ATTRIBUTIONS: All photos Love heart, Broken heart, Broken heart2, via Wikipedia and/or Swan Heart by Mozzercork, and heart by zen via Flickr
Poems from various sources: Resume by Dorothy Parker via The PoetryFoundation, The Broken Heart by William Barnes via famouspoetsandpoems and Mending Wall by Robert Frost via writing.upenn.edu
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