The Head versus The Heart

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

The Head, a twisted hotbed of excessive thought, random memories, vocational facts, and endless conundrums, with a sprinkling of trepidation and nervous tics, is a contained snarl on top of my shoulders. Along with nagging “shoulds” and occasional regrets, now erratic temperament shifts occur thanks to our old friend Estrogen having hailed a cab, never to be seen again.

This active entanglement, that I call Sister Cerebrum, constantly morphs into various shapes like angry snakes trapped in a bag, the movement and irrational hissing accelerating with each hot flash.

Peppered with errant expletives, the obsessive compulsive knot of gray matter has been entwined by fifty-plus years of programming. A continuous swirl both enlightening and exhausting, this disaster zone has offered some of the most raucous and humorous tales.

One might assume endless headaches from all this mental gadding about inside such a rigid cranial vault, but instead, all the commotion manifests as a striking similarity to the attention span of a toddler. SQUIRREL!

Wary of relinquishing control, The Head is becoming fatigued. Maybe it’s also from all the years of excessively tight undergarments once thought necessary to be Wonder Woman. Sister Cerebrum is now finally realizing she doesn’t have all the answers and she is tired of the outdated, rusty rules. Her wrinkles are flattened from years of numbingly constant, cognitive dogma.

Beginning to quell the undulating subliminal chaos, The Head is ready and willing to dip a gray fold into the warmth, whimsy, and fresh flow of ideas from The Heart.

The impetuous Madame Heart sits further south in her thoracic recliner with her feet up, quietly rolling her eyes, beating her vivifying lub dubs. She too has a lot to say, although it has been difficult to get a word in edgewise.

For years, Madame has poked at Sister to be more capricious, only to throw her vessels up in the air out of exasperation and dutifully ramp up the rhythm for Sister’s self-imposed detonations. Sister Cerebrum can now see it might be possible to clean up the scatterplots of prior head explosions.

The inner child, Madame Heart has always wanted to frolic, although repeatedly squelched by her headstrong so-called higher authority. This plucky girl has always been able to blend Sister’s right and left halves into a more respectable verbal composite, albeit barely audible among Sister’s shrieks.

But it’s a new season in The Heart’s subsistence, one with higher decibels and decidedly more chutzpah.

With mercury rising in this mature body, Madame Heart has now dismounted her lounger to stand up and drum her way into Sister Cerebrum’s awareness, delivering an ultimatum. The Heart’s time has come and her agenda is overdue.

Madame is a cozy storyteller and it is definitely time to make merry and be heard. As the appointed circulator of vitality and pumper of joy, she now refuses to be shushed.

The disparities between these precocious fraternal twins is finally blossoming into a congenial, more reciprocal sisterhood as each has finally acknowledged the other’s virtues.

And so it is time for a truce, a handshake sealing the deal, respectfully ending their quarrel as they realize the brevity of breath. It seems their communion sparks have started a wildfire in an otherwise overlooked pocket of subconscious.

They peacefully concede, drawing up their respective declarations. They are, after all, strapped in the same front car on this roller coaster ride, as they climb the tracks toward the summit.

Still clutching one last feeble thread of supremacy, Sister Cerebrum begins:

“Dear Madame Heart,

I grudgingly admit that you possess what I have lacked all these years. As a bona fide member of this anatomy at its skeletal pinnacle, I hereby now bid you free reign to wander across my soul at will. I will allow you to pluck foliage from tight places and spread fairy dust and laughter on my otherwise too serious demeanor. I realize it will cause me some anxious moments and sporadic short circuits, but I’m willing to give it a go.

That said, I reserve the right to continue to be the Emergency Broadcast System, keep you breathing, and offer rational thought should your shenanigans get out of control. It’s just what I physiologically do as the higher order.

You’re welcome.

Love (I think),

Sister Cerebrum”

With a wink and nod, Madame Heart playfully counters:

“Dearest Sister Cerebrum,

Thank you for finally hearing my cadence as I was contemplating the purchase of hearing aides for you. And I also shamefully admit to having reached for my baseball bat a few times pondering retaliation.

But I digress.

I indeed promise to heed you in times of danger, but will now be Strategic Joy Commander of matters at the core of our being. Aside from basic physiological function, your position as Chief Opinion Officer is terminated. I think you will find these circumstances to be much more entertaining and rejuvenating.

That said, I sentence you to daily mindfulness, positivity, and technicolor dreaming on your newly acquired chaise.

By the way, I refuse to clean up excessive joy droppings or funfetti, nor will I quiet any fits of explosive laughter.

And, I most graciously thank you for allowing me the last word.

Much Love,

Madame Heart

P.S. I told you so!”