The Story of the Hearts
The hearts are made of fine silver hardened to the strength of sterling. They are considered pure: 99.9% silver. Of all the symbolism I adore in these little talismans of love and strength and spirit, that may be my favorite… even solid precious metal can't be 100%.
The hearts have come to me as a gift, not something I could have planned or predicted. They are the conduit for all the messages and stories and experiences of my heart. Each one comes into being on its own terms, along with the details and words that speak its story. In every way they have become the perfect outlet for all I have learned on my journey so far.
With each heart a piece of myself is set free. And just like the process of making them I don’t have much say in the form that it takes once it goes out into the world. My hope is that the hearts on this website, and the stories I share in the book, speak to you in ways that are meaningful or useful.
Each heart is one of a kind, made by my hands. There seems to be an endless possibility for shapes and textures, and an endless supply of stories. This aspect of the hearts, the endless possibility, inspires me to keep creating until I have touched on every little thing that matters to my heart.
I believe each one of these has a home. You will know when one belongs to you, or someone you love.
But maybe even more importantly I hope several of them speak to you, with or without words. Sometimes it is the wordless image that more powerfully touches me when I see a heart forming in my hands, strong and beautiful, and crossed with the visible evidence of a scar, and all the stitches that put it back together. Finished and polished it is undeniably more beautiful than any plain shiny symmetrical little heart could ever be. Maybe that is the symbolism that hits me the hardest…. the more dramatic the imperfections in a piece the more powerfully people are drawn to it when they see it. This insight was hard won- my early attempts to control and perfect and smooth each one resulted in pretty little things that no one picks up or exclaims over.
When I let the truth of that wash over me I am moved to tears. Every time. If we applied what we seem to instinctively know in our hearts to ourselves, to loved ones, to strangers, to supposed enemies…. if we even for brief moments were allowed to see ourselves and each other through the pure uncontaminated innocent eyes of first encounter, the eyes of love, we would fall in love more with the colorful stories, the humanity, the imperfection, the color and distinguishing marks, than we ever would with flawless perfection.
Maybe that is the yearning with which I send these out for you to see…. that you may be startled with a bit of pleasure at a heart full of life much-lived and in that moment have a glimpse of not just acceptance of our imperfections, but full-on rolling around reveling in it.