I love that the "answer" is nowhere in the song.

Take me to the breaking of a beautiful dawn

Take me to the place where we come from
Take me to the end so I can see the start
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

Take me to the place where I don't feel so small
Take me where I don't need to stand so tall
Take me to the edge so I can fall apart
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

Take me where love isn't up for sale
Take me where our hearts are not so frail
Take me where the fire still owns its spark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

Teach me how to see when I close my eyes
Teach me to forgive and to apologize
Show me how to love in the darkest dark
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

Take me where the angels are close at hand
Take me where the ocean meets the sky and the land
Show me to the wisdom of the evening star
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

Take me to the place where I feel no shame
Take me where the courage doesn't need a name
Learning how to cry is the hardest part
There's only one way to mend a broken heart

lyrics: The Waillin' Jenny's from 40 Days

Continued Thoughts On The Tree Of Life...

When I was about eight or nine my mom and I were traveling east. She was driving a blue car through the mountains in Tennessee; all of our stuff was piled into the back seat and trunk. I was tired from the long drive so she said I should crawl up onto the pile of stuff and take a nap. I was just shorter than the width of the car and the stuff shifted to support me so that I was about as comfortable as I ever recall feeling in my entire life. Before I fell asleep I lay looking at the dappled, shaded canopy of the forest basking in a warm fall afternoon. I could almost feel the hum of my mothers thoughts as she drove. Knowing what I know now about that time, my involvement in this memory only deepens as I navigate my own life. I feel this was one of the clearest moments of absolute peace I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

i see you in the sun and surf as if fourteen years ago is now. your joy has changed me forever.

my sweet friend you are loved and loving. i am washing sheets and towels tonight hoping that the brush of soft, dryer warmed cottons will save me from this heartbreak. i know i shouldn't be sad - i have seen you dancing in my mind and heart, laughing and free since 4 a.m. this morning. i wonder if you will emerge with messages from the deep. i love you with all of my heart. i want what is best.

Back In The Saddle or Making Out With Santa Claus or Eating Crackers In Bed or Watching Baby Go Boom!

What the hell do you think it means that I dreamed I was mackin' on Santa?? That it's a good thing that I'm a naughty girl and I'm totally gonna get what I want for Christmas? Whatever you do, don't cross your legs 'cuz Santa's got a present for you? (I think if you listen closely you can tell that am giggling like a mad person right now!)

Perhaps you're wondering what the f**k has been happening since I said I'd be "offline for a few weeks?" Me too. You'd think that since I've been walking around in my life I'd be able to tell you a little bit about it but, ney ney Moosebreaths.

For now, I just want to let you know, the few of you who might still be passing through, that I wish you many happy feelings on your bodies! that I am loathe to see my garden dying back, that I have rearranged my living room (again!) 'cuz this time I think I might really have it;) and that I am very much looking forward to having a big ol' party soon!

ps

The photo in the blog title is one that I took on this day; the subject here is lovingly labeled Hell Box. In the printing and letterpress world we set type by hand... very tiny these pieces of type. Sometimes the type is dropped or misplaced. If you are apprenticing in a print shop one of the first tasks set to you is often to sort something like the contents of a Hell Box back into their correct cases; a 'case' is an entire set of type in one font and one size. It's really best never to drop or misplace type. Ha ha ha haa haaa hhaa!

Dangerous Prayers

by Sara Regina Ryan

Deliver us, O God, O Truth, O Love, from quiet prayer
from polite and politically correct language,
from appropriate gesture and form
and whatever else we think we must put forth to invoke or praise You.
Let us instead pray dangerously—wantonly, lustily, passionately.
Let us demand with every ounce of our strength,
let us storm the gates of heaven, let us shake ourselves
and our plaster saints from the sleep of years.
Let us pray dangerously.
Let us throw ourselves from the top of the tower,
let us risk a descent to the darkest regions of the abyss,
let us put our head into the lion's mouth
and direct our feet to the entrance of the dragon's cave.
Let us pray dangerously.
Let us not hold back a little portion,
dealing out our lives—our precious minutes and our
energies—like some efficient accountant.
Let us rather pray dangerously—unsafe, profligate, wasteful!
Let us ask for nothing less than that the Infinite ravage us.
Let us ask for nothing less than annihilation in the
Fires of Love.
Let us not pray in holy half-measures nor walk
the middle path for too long, but pray madly, foolishly.
Let us be too ecstatic,
let us be too overwhelmed with sorrow and remorse,
let us be undone and dismembered...and gladly.
Left to our devices, ah what structures of deceit we have created;
what battlements erected, what labyrinths woven,
what traps set for ourselves, and then
fallen into. Enough.
Let us pray dangerously—hot prayer, wet prayer, fierce prayer,
fiery prayer, improper prayer,
exuberant prayer, drunken and completely unrealistic prayer.
Let us say Yes, again and again and again.
And Yes some more.
Let us pray dangerously, the most dangerous prayer is
always yes.