I can
understand why
the ancients
thought the
heart was
the seat of emotion,
passion,
fear and peace.
The
heartbeat is a funny thing.
It’s
reaction to stress,
to sex,
to love,
to work,
to sweet
kisses,
a child’s
laughter,
a stormy
night.
All makes
sense when
trying to
decide why we
do, what we
do, when we
do it.
It’s clear.
It’s why we
wear our “hearts
on our
sleeves”, and not our
“brains on
our sleeves”.
Neither is
the most pleasant
of images. I
mean, if literal,
it’d be
pretty gross to have
either
internal organ just
jutting out
there at the
end of a
shirt sleeve. Ick.
But the
metaphor works
because we
still think, with our
brains, that
the heart is the
true guide
of our convictions.
Even though
our brains know
better.
Our brains
pulled a fast one
on us all. “Blame
the heart,”
Cries the
brain. “It’s the heart’s
Fault!” And
we’re almost fools
enough to
believe it.
But it’s
better to say heartache
than brain ache,
Heartsick over
brain sick,
Heartbroken over
brain
broken.
Although
Brain freeze does
win over
heart freeze.
Well done
brain, well done.
Keep that
heart pumping and
we’ll all
just keep forgetting
you’re
there.
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