Learning To Live With A Broken Heart.
There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. ~ Leonard Cohen
It is easy to aspire to strength.
It is easy to offer a solid shoulder to someone we love when they are suffering.
It is natural we are empathetic beings after all.
We conjure thoughtful quotes, recommend a good book or wrap them in our arms and say, It will all be ok it just takes time.
But I don’t feel ok and every day that passes feels like a year’s worth of grief.
In the past I learnt how to move on.
I have put my head down and got through it.
I got dressed and went to work.
I sent well wishes into the universe with hope it would reach the soul of the person I was letting go of and then I felt bette.
But this is different.
You are gone and it feels like you took my heart with you.
No matter how I try nothing can make me feel better right now.
Not the yoga classes, the healing sessions, the Skype calls with loved ones or the healthy dinners and Buddhist podcasts I force myself to gulp down every night.
Not the morning meditations or even the long cries.
I have been on what I consider to be the spiritual path for about a year now and it seems it has all led me to this moment.
I’m drawing on every tool I know.
It is easy to be smart and strong when nothing is wrong but what about now?
What happens when we have lost this much?
Feeling helpless I bowed before my altar this morning and prayed, What more can I do?
And somehow through the roaring tidal wave of emotion a soft and tender voice arose,
Learn to live with your broken heart.
And the tears came again as I got my answer.
All week I have been searching for the vision of a future where my heart was mended but nothing came through.
I felt hopeless but now I understand why?!
My heart will never be the same again but I no longer want it to be.
Now there is nothing between me and the heart of the world.
The slightest eye contact brings me to tears.
A genuine moment of compassion surges through my body like a river.
I feel everything I built a life around is trying not to feel.
And while I may be broken now I am free.
I can finally put down my shield.
I know now I can no longer walk through life guarding my heart like this.
I can’t truly love that way either.
It doesn’t matter how much affection is in me if I can’t touch the world or my beloved.
I don’t want my love to be precious like some untouchable piece of art.
I want it to be ordinary every day and real just as it is built to be.
I want to hold my heart in my hand every morning, glide my thumb over the chips on it’s edges and know it is still worth giving.
I want to offer it as I would offer my most cherished belonging, because it is.
What more can I give than my genuine broken heart?
I’m forever changed.
Even if it is what we fear the most, this is actually the greatest blessing we can receive in this human life.
This is how we know our whole hearts.
That isn’t to say that I don’t need healing.
Because right now my porcelain pieces are scattered on the floor.
It will take great attention and care to bring my heart back together again but I’m willing to do it because now I understand why it is worth it.
I know what I was missing.
In this moment I am reminded of the Japanese art form called kintsugi.
Translating to patching with gold, this craft is the process of repairing a broken pottery by rejoining the clay pieces with a golden lacquer.
The fractures becomes the most valuable places.
We don’t discard and replace a perfect
good cup, we honour it’s breaking, illuminate the cracks and in doing so create something even more beautiful.
So I have given up on trying to fix this or even feel better and in doing so I have restored my faith that somehow this heartbreak has opened me to a lifetime of genuine, raw human love.
Now it is time to master this craft and this healing.
Trusting one day when I set the table for two, you will walk through my door with your kintsugi heart and learn how to love mine too.