Ma joie est dans mon cœur.

I had an English professor in the early 80s who had returned home (NYC) after teaching in Texas. She still had the Lone Star plates on her car. She was teaching poetry (that is to say, teaching her students how to write it). She shared a piece of a poem she had written about the husband she had divorced:

Death is the price of life.
Lives change places.
Asked why
we ever married, I smile
and mention the arbitrary fierce
glance of the working artist
that blazed sometimes in your face
but can’t picture it.

I had no idea what any of that meant when I was 22. A fierce glance would have been a major turn-off for me way back when. The look goes with images of violent, deviant, raw sexual energy. (In case you are wondering that description of mine would be construed as something negative).

The title of this entry literally translates as 'my joy is in my heart'. We take for granted that the emotions are somehow associated either with the heart or the brain. The heart pumps blood and blood can do wonderous things when it's rate is increased or when it seems to flow to the face; coloring the cheeks or making the head reel.

The brain sorts images, smells, memories and can be responsible for fight or flight.

Since I've never been married, I've never been divorced. I've had some breakups (both as the breaker and the breakee). I have friends, but Mr Wright has always been elusive to me.

These days I visit a therapist every other week.

I want to manifest joy and not to reach for anger all the time.

Je veux que la joie soit à nouveau dans mon cœur.