The Head and the Heart

The head and the heart are the two voices I know best.

The head, no stranger to logic and practicality. She is a realist, with a booming voice that says, think louder than you feel. A scrappy, resilient, street-smart lady who’s equipped with confidence. I’d be lost, or worse, without her. But you must be wondering, what about the heart?

The heart is gentle, as sensitive as they come. Though pain, worry, and fear tear at her seams, love, joy, and hope mend her back together. She beats with laughter and sadness. But she is not weak. She is courageous, bolder than the fiercest contender. I’d be lost, or worse, without her.

So how do these two live when they are as different as they come. I’m glad you asked. The heart writes letters, as only the heart can, and sends them straight to the head. These letters hold imagination and wonder, empathy, and curiosity. The head opens each one, letting every feeling find its place. Over time, wisdom grows. The heart’s feelings begin to inform the logic. And then the head writes back. Her letters are filled with questions, grateful for the heart’s constant pursuit. The heart reads every word with thoughtfulness, letting the questions inform the emotion. The head is complex. The heart is dynamic. And when the obstacles creep in, eager to delay and confuse, the head and the heart remain steadfast pen pals. Neither survives without the other.

These are the voices I know best, and I’d be lost, or worse, without them.

Honey

As she began to write, a small drop of honey gently plopped onto the back of her hand. “What on earth?” she thought, putting down her pen to formally assess the situation. Now, logically, she knew she’d used honey in her coffee this morning. Could she have accidentally put honey in her hair? Perhaps. But who can interpret anything accurately before coffee? So either this honey drop managed its way into her messy head of curls or it had inexplicably fallen from above.

Honey was a bit like glitter—sparkly but hard to wipe away, making more of a mess than probably worth it. However, this single drop of honey felt like a little sparkle, a secret just for her.

Not having a napkin, there was only one thing left to do. “Goodbye little honey” she whispered as her finger scooped up the drop and placed it on her tongue. Back on track, she began writing: I have felt a bit outside of myself lately. I don’t feel rested and I can’t figure out why. I may be distracted to the point of putting honey in my hair. But, there is a small chance that a honey drop fell from somewhere else. She looked up at the ceiling. No sign of honey. Her lips slowly curved into a smile. She thought, “What if I just chose to believe that a tiny invisible fairy saw me struggling over feeling like a mess and decided that the only way to pull me out of my spiral was to drip a drop of honey onto my hand? And if that is to be true, then that very drip of honey had to drop from a tiny honey pot.”

The Ladybugs Three

Here is a little story idea that visited my imagination this week:

There once was a ladybug named Lu, short for LuEllen. She lived in Little Rock with her mom Mary Lou and dad, Ronald. Lu and her parents are legends in Arkansas to this very day. With their distinct dot coloring of purple, red, and teal, the family was rare and easily recognizable. If that wasn’t enough to set them apart, they were blessed with the gift of singing. They sang country music as good as any successful country singer (human). Believe me when I say, I’ll never forget the day I heard those ladybugs sing. One Saturday morning, I went for a walk by the river in downtown Little Rock. There was music playing, but not a speaker or person in sight. Maybe the speakers were expertly camouflaged in the ground. I continued to hunt for the source with no luck. There was a little grassy area where I would’ve bet my life the sound was coming from. So, I bent down and lowered my ear to the spot where the music seemed to be coming from. It was beautiful—like Jennifer Nettles, George Strait, and Chris Stapleton were singing together, with perfect harmonies as smooth as butter. I moved my ear closer to the ground and then, the music suddenly stopped. I heard a small voice say, “Hellooooo? You’re getting awfully close to us!” I bolted up and looked around.
“Who said that?”
As I scanned the River Walk, there wasn’t a soul near me. Certainly not awfully close! I moved back down toward my original spot and lowered my ear once more. I’m losing my mind, I thought. Maybe someone IS speaking to me through hidden speakers.” I nearly convinced myself of this until I heard the same voice cut through my thoughts—

“Hey! Look down. We are here. In the grass!” The small voice said again.
I slowly turned my eyes to the ground. Right there, side by side were three ladybugs. They were beautiful and not like any ladybugs I’d ever seen. I thought, Are these ladybugs talking to me? I’m about to talk to ladybugs. I’m probably losing it. but at this rate, what’s the worst thing that could happen?

“Hello?” I said to the brightly spotted colored bugs.
”Hi!” “Hey there.” “Hello, young lady.” I heard three greetings. There were three bugs. While I’m not great at math, this added up. It defied all logic I had developed in my 36 years on the planet, but the math was right!
”This may be a silly question, but are those voices coming from you ladybugs?”
If anyone was watching me, I looked like a crazy person. But, I started to feel like I was filling up with hope for something I’d never known to hope for.
”Yes, it’s us!” A younger-sounding voice replied. “Look closer.”
As I focused a little more, I saw one leg on each ladybug waving and tiny mouths smiling. It IS real! Or, I’d gone completely crazy. Either way, I wasn’t ready to leave this moment.
“So, was that you all singing that beautiful country music? I’ve not heard that song before, but it was great!” The ladybugs wings all fluttered at different paces.
”It was us! Thank you” the middle-sized bug replied in a kind, southern accent. “We are a family band and that was an original! You liked it?”
”Oh yes, I did. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to sing it again?”
”We’d be delighted!”

I changed positions and laid on my stomach so I could get a better look. The largest ladybug, about the size of my pinky fingernail, leaned back and picked up the smallest instrument I’d ever seen. It was a piece of wood that had tiny strings pulled across it. The ladybug began to play. It sounded just like a guitar! And just as before, the most beautiful country music and voices filled the air. Now, I don’t know that I’m qualified to speak on what is, or is not, considered a miracle; but if I were, there’s no other word I’d use for this remarkable moment. The song was about music, joy, and appreciating your family - for all the ways they loved and forgiving the times they hurt. I could’ve listened to them for hours. Once the song ended, I clapped gently, as the volume of my movements or speech was unknown. The bugs each took a bow and fluttered their wings.
”That was incredible! Do all ladybugs sing? Forgive me, I’ve never even thought about insects, animals, or plants having gifts like this.”
The largest ladybug responded in a steady, deep tone, sounding like an older gentleman from South Carolina, “As far as we know, we are the only singing ladybugs, insects or otherwise. It sounds like that’s true for you too! But as far as gifts go, we have friends with all kinds of gifts!”
”Have you ever performed for a person before?” And by the way, thank you for helping me to see you.”
The smallest ladybug of the three flew up to my hand that was resting on my chin. I brought my hand a little closer to my face. ”You are the first human who’s ever stopped to listen. People are either in too much of a hurry or have little things in their ears now. So thank you for taking the time to listen and for the encouragement. I speak for my family when I say, we love singing and would do it whether it was for our nature community or just for us. But getting to share this with you has been very special!”
”You’re welcome. Your music and courage have encouraged me as well! Would you like to perform for more people if I could gather a few trustworthy ones—humans who wouldn’t exploit your talent or take you away from your home?”
The littlest ladybug flew back down to her family and I could hear them chirping. Perhaps, this was a language that humans weren’t able to translate. Then all three fluttered their wings and flew up to my hand. The middle-sized ladybug, who I’ve decided is the mom, moved forward.
”Yes. If you promise that it would be a group, like you, who’d hear us, talk to us, and then let us stay in our home, with our community; then yes, we’d be honored to perform! We’ve written three songs so far and we’d love to perform them. Do you think your friends would be okay if we invited some of our friends too?”
”Oh yes, I think they’d be just fine with that. Shall we say, same place, same time, in two days?” I asked.
I was already starting to think of who to invite. Those who’d believe me but more importantly, who’d be able to appreciate this wonderful thing.
The bugs moved into a line, opened up their vibrant dotted skin, and fluttered their wings. Then, three voices in unison said, “Deal!” They flew back down to the ground and I said goodbye. I jogged back to my house with a goofy grin, I couldn’t help but think how lucky I was to be in that moment. After a shower, I found my journal and wrote out the whole experience, a lot of which you’re reading now. How many extraordinary things like this exist in the world? And how often do we miss them because we are either too busy or distracted? I paused my journaling to make a list of people to invite to the tiny grass concert. David, Emily, Linnae, Micah, EJ, Lucy, Norah, Conor, Anna, Ben, Luca, Sunny, Mason, Stephen, Walter, Mae, Mccoy, Crosby, Nellie, and Ruthie. That seemed like an excellent list. I picked up my phone and called. I described the experience and urged each person to just believe me enough to attend this far-fetched-sounding concert at the River Walk. With much relief, each friend agreed, even if they did think I’d lost my (remaining) marbles. I gave thanks for my friends and their lack of judgment.

The day came quickly and with perfect weather! I packed a cooler full of snacks and drinks and headed toward the River Walk. As I neared the location, I saw David, Emily, Lucy, Norah, Conor, Anna, Ben, Luca, Linnae, Micah, Sunny, Mason, Stephen, Walter, Mae, Mccoy, Crosby, Nellie, and Ruthie. They all came and were waiving, arms filled with chairs and picnic blankets. I am the luckiest girl in the world, I thought. Look at all these people who love me! After greetings and hugs, I instructed where to put the blankets and chairs, then asked everyone to be quiet for just a moment. I walked to the place where I’d met my insect friends a short time ago. It dawned on me that I didn’t get their names before. So I called out, ”Ladybug family, Are you here?” Three tiny bugs flew up to my hand. “Hello!” I said, trying to keep my voice low, while my excitement was at an all-time high.
”Hi, Hello, Hello!” They each exclaimed. I turned my hand toward my friends and said, “I brought some wonderful people to hear your music and meet you. And they’ve all agreed to keep this secret between us.”
”Wonderful!” The largest bug, undoubtedly the father, exclaimed.
”Before we begin, I must apologize for not getting your names before. I believe I figured out who was who, but what shall I call you?”
I’m Lu, short for LuEllen” The littlest said with energy only a child can manage. ”We’d like to know your name too!”
”I’m Mary Lou and this is my husband, Ronald. And please do tell us your name.” Both older lady bugs fluttered their wings while little Lu hopped up and down.
”I’m Sarah and it’s very nice to know each of you by name. I’ll introduce you to my friends after the concert. And if it’s alright, I found a wooden platform for you all to sing on so it’d be easier to see and hear you. Let me grab it and we can see if you like.” Years ago, a friend gifted me a small wooden speaker that was made to amplify sound naturally. It seemed perfect for the tiny lawn concert. I placed it in the grass, front and center to my friends. The ladybugs flew above it and landed gently. “This will do just fine. How splendid to perform on a real stage!” Mr. Ronald had his guitar-like instrument strapped to him. Mary Lou moved forward and spoke, “Thank you, Sarah. This is perfect. Just give us a cue of when you’d like us to start.” I nodded and then turned to my friends.
”Good morning everyone, Thank you all for coming. It is my great privilege to share this experience with y’all. And now, without further ado, I present, MaryLou, Ronald, and Lu!”
I moved out of the way as the ladybugs began to perform. It was even better than the day I heard it. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such awe on the faces of my friends before. As the final song was played, laughter, tears, and cheers filled the air. The ladybug family got a standing ovation that lasted 3 whole minutes. They bowed and fluttered. Then, as the excitement quieted, the bugs flew to my hand.
”Thank you.” Ronald’s voice sounded a little emotional. “This has been a day we will never forget. May we meet your friends now?” I thanked each of them and took them around to meet everybody. After all the introductions, little Lu flew up toward my face and asked, “May we introduce our friends to everyone now?”
”Yes, please!” The ladybugs flew down to the ground and chirped something. Then, the miracles multipled. Three caterpillars, two snails, a frog, a couple of beetles, several classic-colored ladybugs, 3 flies, and one tufted titmouse, all gathered around the wooden stage. We all mixed and mingled until the morning drifted into day and the River Walk began to fill with people. And though they were all too busy to notice anything unusual, the time for goodbyes had come. The gratitude for the experience was palpable. And once everyone had gone, it was my turn to bid farewell to my three new friends. We believed we’d meet again when the time was right. I promised to always take time to listen for nature’s music on my walks. They promised to keep singing and writing.

I’ll never forget that day when the impossible was turned into possible. My (human) friends and I have a breakfast gathering every year to honor the extraordinary day when the ladybugs sang. I’ve yet to see them again, but I believe they’re still playing music, waiting for just the right time to say hello. And I hope that some other lucky person, or people, get to hear their music too. Because what better way is there to bring people together than through the magic of music?