“Most of the time, the universe speaks to us very quietly … in pockets of silence, in coincidences, in nature, in forgotten memories, in the shape of clouds, in moments of solitude, in small tugs at our hearts.”
— Yumi Sakugawa, “Your Illustrated Guide To Becoming One With The Universe” (Adams Media; October 3, 2014) (via The Vale Of Soul-Making)
Recalled with my dear friend, Leslie, over tea today that 11 years ago this coming February we had one of our first group exhibitions together. She proposed a reunion show with the same artists and an extension of the original exhibit, Heart-lags, to which I agreed, and so we shall!
I then dug up the definition of that word (heart-lag) I made up for the purposes\ of our show’s title and theme below, and still, it’s relevant.
Heart-lag n. heart-lagged, heart-lagging, heart-lags
1. The condition of emotionally falling behind where you are physically. 2. To be plagued with outdated feelings and sentiments. 3. To be hung up on memories that will not allow you to fully be in the present and/or see any kind of future. 4. To feel like you have left something behind you, that you can never tangibly return to.
Synonym: extreme unceasing nostalgia
My heart-lags are in ice cream stains and foot slivers and the creases of your forehead, even though I am here in an office cubicle, crying.
“What part of yourself did you have to destroy in order to survive in the world this year? But most importantly: what have you found to be unkillable?”
— Arabelle Sicardi, from “The Year in Ugliness,” published in The Poetry Project
Before, the only thing I was interested in was love, how it grips you, how it terrifies you, how it annihilates and resuscitates you. I didn’t know then that it wasn’t even love that I was interested in but my own suffering. I thought suffering kept things interesting. How funny that I called it love and the whole time it was pain.
