"You mean you were diagnosed with something called a brain cloud and didn't ask for a second opinion?"

From the August annals. . .

I think somewhere in the recesses of my brain - or maybe it was my heart - arose a mist of a thought when I made goals of "no sugar" and "writing daily", and in that mist was the understanding that I never expected myself to be perfect at it.

Probably it was my heart. Because my brain wants to be exacting, reminding me verbatim of the mantra it cleverly devised: "I can do anything for 30 days!"

It turns out I fit perfectly inside the difference between "committed" and "disciplined".

I am trying to let my heart lead my dance steps, but my brain is proving to be a tricky dance partner, all demanding and precise. Neither of which I do well with. (I have the college transcripts that show withdrawals from - count them - three dance classes, you know.)

My heart says I need to - and can - do hard things. Make decisions that may not seem to make sense, but that get me closer to the heart of things.

And my heart thanks God for a husband on whom I can test out the whims of my heart-full ideas and who does not get rattled in the least. Such support is a warm blanket and a hot meal to my weary, wandering heart.

My heart says I need to trust . . . to believe, to have faith against all odds of reasons my brain would devise to the contrary.

What does my brain know anyway?

[Title quote is from "Joe Versus the Volcano"]