Today I am contemplating the contours of the human heart. Certainly every human heart has topography as rich and varied as the myriad land forms on this planet: Rivers of sorrow; mountains of conquest; deserts of desolation; fields of possibility.
Given this vastness, I consider whether the the human heart can even be mapped? Perhaps it's not possible to trace the journey one's heart takes in the moments after ones child is born or when a parent dies. When a savage atrocity is committed or following the news that we have cancer. Or when we surrender to the realization that our marriage is destined to fail. Perhaps; perhaps not.
As I look through my ink drawings, however, it occurs to me that, in the course of creating these pieces, I have effectively been scanning my heart and mapping the contours onto the paper before me. The images that spring forth are invariably rugged and ravaged terrain, filled with meandering valleys and jagged peaks, layered dimensions, unrecognizable forms flowing betwixt and between just as our emotions do every moment of every day.
Though these maps are indecipherable to the human eye, it has been the process of creating them that has allowed me to find some peace in those peaks and valleys of my life. And for this gift I am forever grateful.