Is relocating this little zine to the city of Brotherly Love.
We're excited for the change of scenery and the growth that will be made possible because of the shift.
Expect us to go dark while we get started growing new roots but expect the fall to breathe a new kind of life back into her lungs.
Until we meet again,
- The Heart Times
(over and out)
"You're so talented!"
"Wow, how do you do it?"
"That's sensational!"
"I could never do something like that!"
You could totally do something like that
You could totally be the reason someone said the word "sensational"
You could do something and teach others how to do it too
You could totally be talented
The only thing stopping you
is your own belief that you can't
and your belief in the people who planted that seed first
Fun challenge this July to break that curse:
Do something you've admired someone else doing and try to keep an open mind and generous heart towards your own self-criticism while you're doing it. See what unfolds!
And if something magical unfolds don't forget to tell us about it so we can paste it around the world wide web to help you celebrate.
Over and out
- HT
She kept alluding me.
Some days I'd wake up and she'd be right beside me, curled up in the comfort of my sheets. The scent of her would linger on me all day and she would be waiting for me when I got home with open arms.
Other days, the bed would be cold, the coffee would be burnt, and my hair would feel dry as a bone. The warmth of her comfort, a distant memory in the face of the bleakness stretched out before me.
"The path to joy is through the sorrow" became my mantra as I pressed into my grief and allowed her to carry me to the darkest parts of my soul, the spaces that needed the most healing.
But the grief swallowed me whole, and I barely had time to breathe.
Gone was the laughter and beauty as life became a game of survival and strength.
I lived like this for many years. I've known too many who have lived like this for far longer than that. I know some who carried this burden to their grave.
But I kept pushing and pressing and fermenting and stirring and coaxing and releasing and I prevailed
It was messy, it was calloused, and I wasn't the only one caught in my torrent, but we prevailed.
And then, on 7/5/25, a mystery revealed herself to me:
"Joy isn't a destination, it's a state of being. It's a filter"
I looked up, perplexed, wrote it down, and repeated it to a friend thinking I'd struck gold and she reminded me that I am very young, and my glimmer of hope was merely fool's gold.
She smiled and said in a steady flow "Yes, it's like how heaven and hell are all in your mind".
Eureka! Of course! I am so late to the game that my dear friend has known for quite some time. Another reminder that everything must come in it's time and today was just my day to understand this.
And so now, whenever I feel the coolness of nothing settling a little too close to me, I call on joy. I intentionally ask her to accompany me today and do you know something? She always shows up in the most unexpected ways.
I always thought doubt was like grass, just kind of useless and better if you planted something else like clover. However now that I am far older and far wiser (two months later) I think doubt might be more like digging a hole and the key to surviving these pitfalls is by being intentional with what the hole gets filled with.
(get your head out of the gutter)
What kind of seed are you going to plant at the bottom?
What are you going to surround the seed with?
How are you going to nourish and water the seed?
I think people are filling the garden of their subconscious with a lot of doubt and so all they can see is a battle field, myself included, but if we choose to be intentional and start planting new things we could create something new.
Who knows what we could grow?
Who knows what that might inspire?
Maybe we should give it a try, it can’t hurt, right?
over and out
— HT
There are many different ways to take control:
Yada yada yada
There are so many ways. I think the key word missing here is “gently”.
You can’t have no control, I don’t care what anyone says. Everything has a place in the right setting, under the right conditions, in the correct amounts. Having control is no different. The difference is how you handle it.
We are all called to be leaders in some form or capacity.
So the question becomes:
How do you stand tall as a leader without stepping on toes?
And the answer that I’m working with is gently.
Now, to seal the deal another word that can be applied is “self”.
Heres the full format, are you ready?
Gently self control
It’s like keeping one hand on the wheel while the other is tenderly holding on to something you cherish.
What would happen if we all tried this, even if it was just for the day?
Can you imagine what kind of impact that might have?
I wonder
over and out!
- HT
I am absolutely tearing into this chicken tender platter from Riggtown Pizza. Thank you Bridget!
and I realized that there is more food on my plate than I can eat. That is so cool. I am so blessed.
I have survived another day and my plate is full. I have nothing to complain about. Nature is providing all the entertainment and the soundscape right now is to die for.
The air has that thick syrupy texture to it and somewhere out there there’s a bird who can’t stop singing in the rain.
What else could a person need?
over and out
- HT
It was an unusually chilly and overcast day for the month of June, and while the word "dreary" certainly could be applied, the word "anticipation" just so happened to hum a little louder. It was Friday the 27th. The night of the Heart Times's first ever Poetry Competition in collaboration with Dojo Sound.
Cups were purchased, mocktails were made, and charcuterie boards were assembled as everyone carefully prepared for a night to remember to something stirring on the speakers.
The clock hit 6pm as the Heart Times Team took to the stage, blowing up balloons, casting fairy lights, and tuning their instruments (their voices) for the most magical evening ever to hit the stage of Dojo Sound.
By 7:30 pm the vibes were electric and the lights were dimmed as everyone slowly made their way into the heart of the space where a stage stood lit up in such a way that a glowing orb encapsulated all who dared to stand in her center.
Our first poet of the night appeared from a door on the right and the magic and rhythm of night began to flow.
One by one our fearless heart speakers took their place among the stars and let their words pour over us and wash us in something new that resonated with parts of us we hadn't seen in a while.
All of this was backed by the gorgeous acoustic accompaniment from Dojo Sound's very own Nikki
Snaps all around.
And suddenly, it was silent as Carmen (our fearless creative director) reset the stage in preparation for the open mic portion of the evening.
Have you ever seen lightning strike?
Now imagine it striking for the rest of the night as one by one people lined up to share their hearts through song and words over and over again. Each one just as impressive as the last. Never a dull moment on the mic.
How did we get so blessed to have so much raw talent right at our fingertips? Right in our backyard?
Then we crowned our winners and their words
Finally, when all was said and done, we got to dig into true edible art thanks to the wonderful charcuterie boards provided by our own local Madi (you can find her info below, along with the winning poets, the runners up, and more)
And to top it all off, (as if we hadn't done enough), karaoke.
What a night
What a show
I hope you can make it to the next one
Over and out
-HT
A HUGE ROUND OF APPLAUSE TO OUR POETS:
Genya (tied for first)
Brad B
Meg Helene (tied for first)
Kathleen
Scarlett
Poems Performed:
Empath (winning poem)
By: Genya T.
I can feel,
Like the blisters at the edges of fingertips grazing their lovers skin.
I can feel,
Like a carcass rotting with its eyes open seeing
what is being done.
I can feel,
From newborns first breath to seniors last.
I can feel,
I can feel everything,
To the point where it is Nothing.
Until...
I Can Feel
How Long? (winning poem)
By: Meg Helene
Did you confess to the priest
About your obsession
With blaming your daughter
For your spouts of depression?
Not gay, but still repressed,
Like me,
Your issues,
Go unaddressed
I wonder how long it will take to set in,
It’s you, not me, living in sin.
Warped
By: Meg Helene
Rose colored glasses
Eventually removed
Now I recognize
I lost myself in you.
glorious highs
mangled with Anxiety
confused with butterflies
You brought me down to the floor
Drowned in tears before I walked out
That door, barely breathing
Looking back, I try to grasp
How much time I let pass
One day, I looked in the mirror
Who is this person
Staring back
Not me
Moments
now so clear
A strangers reflection
warped with fear
Remembering
You
Wasted at the bar
You took that line
Before driving your car
Now your yelling,
Pure red
I lay on the floor crying
Can we just go to bed
No fight in me, I just retreat
I disassociate from your flame
When I check out, it’s your so cold
No baby,
This behavior is getting old,
Like you
There’s no reason for amends,
I should have listened to my friends.
We Are Ghosts
By: Scarlett Montana
We are ghosts.......
Our place is outside the rigid lines on the fringe in a virtual sea.
The masses don’t believe we’re real, but I see you and you see me.
We stand behind blank canvas. On clean slate is where we write. We archive history’s unexplained for all the days and all the nights. Years, months, days hours, manmade clocks that tell us when. But we know there’s no such thing as time. Then is now and now is then. We straddle across dimensions. We carry with us all the pain. We’re the empaths, the see-ers, the je ne sais quoi. We’re the gracefully insane. We’re the lamplights, the shadows, the absinthe kissed. We’re the satyrs, the nymphs, the green wraith of a mist. We’re magic and tragic. Our flaws are also our graces. We’re Homer, we’re Oedipus, Campbell’s hero with a thousand faces. We’re Basquiat and Lautrec. We’re Hawthorne’s scarlet A. We’re a sorcerer’s casted spells. We’re Dionysus at play. We’re the anarchists, the freaks, the ones who dared to sing. Our voices are the loudest and we shout Liber should be king! Our work? It’s infinity. In what form? We don’t know yet. We are ghosts and you can see us when the sun begins to set. The galaxy above...in the spiral dust we reside. Where the ethereal begins and the material subsides. Look up... It’s where we end and where we begin. We’re twisted, warped and tangled
from the stars that live within.
I Met A Girl
By: Brad Beyer
Early morning raindrops make their final descent toward the ground and
plunge through their last obstacle, a stubborn cluster of oak leaves determined
to impede their destiny.
The light pitter patter of the droplets striking the leaves awakens them from
their overnight slumber, nudges them, and rousts them to gently spin, twirling
like ballerinas, and softly giving voice to the break of day.
As the rain grows a little stronger, the twirling of the leaves becomes more lively
and agitated and a faint chorus of song emanates from above.
I listen intently to the captivating beauty of the voice of the rain against the
leaves and hear its whisper. It calls your name; all because I met a girl.
As the rain continues to fall a bit heavier, I hear a rapid, pounding staccato of
determined splashes, each a unique collision of water against earth, like two
lovers too long separated. The pace of the raindrops mimics the racing of my
heart when I see your smile; all because I met a girl.
As the rain gradually subsides, the sun’s first sliver of light lazily creeps over
the sleepy horizon and announces the hopeful sparkle of a new day.
A day I will cherish from sunrise to sunset. A day overflowing with the
excitement of thinking about you; all because I met a girl.
I carefully dress, select my shirt and pants, tie my shoes, fasten my belt, check
the mirror a little longer than usual, and spring to life like a butterfly leaving
the cocoon, and think of you; all because I met a girl.
Are you still asleep? Were your dreams sweet? Did you dream of me? Or is my
affection in vain. My heart quickens, my palms sweat, my energy bursts
forward with the anticipation of seeing you soon; all because I met a girl.
The girl I met is a butterfly, hard to capture, beautiful, and enchanting. I see
her face in the clouds, in the leaves, in the fields and streams. I hear her voice
in the song of a field bird, in the rustle of a wheat field, in the trickle of a brook.
She is everywhere, in all things at once. The irresistible avalanche of her spirit
envelopes me, makes me whole. My world is perfect, all because I met a girl.
Practically Perfect
By: Rebecca
As painful as that was,
I know
we just did something
extraordinary
because
when I was in your shoes
I was reamed to the bone
But just now
I was in a position
to do the same
(brutal thing) to you
and I chose to do
something new
with my newfound
generational
understanding
Knowing that took place
is the healing balm
over an uncomfortable
set of circumstances
Did You Know?
By: Rebecca
Water is everywhere
and you can enjoy it anywhere
She’s super adaptable and
can endure any climate
He can be mixed with almost anything
and he’s a really good cleaner
They promote so much change and
can grow lots of different things
It can make anyone feel more alive
and it’s so good when it’s refreshing
But sometimes we need a little help
when we get stagnant
and that’s where you come in` `
Thank you all again for a night to remember. What a beautiful first melody out of many.
Our Supporting Cast:
Ivy, Squid, Nikki, Rob, and Madi
Dojo Sound
307 Westtown Road
https://dojosoundofficial.com/
The Art of the Board by Madi
mcahill531@gmail.com
Instagram: @the.art.of.the.board
The rain is crashing outside of my window right now, an early applause celebrating the growth it will bring to our parched soil. The trees are absolutely loving this and they're doing such a good job protecting all of the little critters clinging to their bark in an effort to keep dry and safe.
I am misted in moisture having just returned from hanging out on the porch to admire the beauty before me and talking to you guys was the first thing I wanted to do because while I was out there, I was having some serious thoughts.
We have been suffering one of the worst spiritual droughts I have ever seen and it just keeps getting worse. I fear that we are doing so much cutting off of our roots in an effort to be original, that we have stopped ourselves from being able to receive nutrients from the soil and have stopped growing deeper to find new sources of fresh ground water.
I firmly believe in cutting off the toxic parts that are poisoning you, but sometimes there's an antidote and wouldn't you want to try that first before resulting in bloodshed?
Get creative! Try something new! The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
If you're experiencing friction with one of your roots, try everything in your power to resolve it. Don't fight it. Lean in, learn, and love.
Almost everything can be cleaned in water, and there's a chemical out there for pretty much everything else.
This is the modern era, why are we acting like cave men with our emotions?
That's all my love
Over and out!
- HT
