blind spots

it's time for sleep. my perishable groceries are at the foot of the stairs. my sheets are in the dryer; my bed is unmade.

i'm trying this new thing where i set head aside for heart. it's not my strength, but so i find myself, blogging instead of bedding.

something today got me thinking about blind spots. it was possibly a near miss in that dangerous engine thing i strap myself into every day. it was probably the underlying feeling of vulnerability that stems from knowing i don't know it all, can't see it all, can't feel it all, can't see what i feel, and yet decide decide decide choose choose choose.

strange, isn't it; spaces we just don't see? reminds me of that experiment chuch loves where you draw several dots on an envelope and if you close one eye you can't see one of the dots, even though the whole envelope seems to be there. where does the dot go? where do the ducks go in the winter?

when my head is the driver, my heart is the blind spot. like it was never there.