The thing about a broken heart..

The thing about a broken heart is you never know when it’s going to strike. You may get an inkling; storms cloud gather, the sky turns a strange shade of green, birds fall silent and retreat, but still you think that the lightning will pass you by. You’ve weathered storms before and emerged unscathed. You reason to yourself that you’ll just lay low for a while and wait for it to blow over. But it doesn’t. It hovers directly above and you’re frozen with fear. In that split second you know it’s coming and you know there’s no escape. Time stretches to draw out the arrival of that certain agony. Why is that? Is fate so cruel that it has to underline its arrival by slowing time to a trickle in order that we feel every nuance of impending doom?

But that is nothing compared to what’s about to follow. The lightning, that you swore would leave you be, cracks your world apart. Things you thought you’d hold forever are gone. Precious, cherished moments of joy turn to ashes and worse. Jagged, broken, bitter bits of dreams catch your clothing and tear your skin. Everyday there are reminders that render you unable to think or reason, let alone speak.

We are all capable of great love and that is in itself the danger. There is so much to lose; a marriage betrayed, a job annihilated, a child lost, a home destroyed, a friendship defeated, a belief shattered, a sense of belonging destroyed. Everything from your football team losing the Grand Final to a massacre in your homeland.

Helen Keller said that security is a superstition. It does not exist in nature. And when lightning strikes, as it always will, there may be some comfort in those words.

Buddhism says when the lightning strikes we are forced to look at the places where we are most stuck, our suffering shows us what we are most attached to. Therefore we should welcome such experiences, because it’s only by facing the sadness, the loss, the sense of betrayal and the grief that we can be free of these things ruling our lives.

Although I understand that to be true and have experienced the change it brings, sometimes I am made of softer stuff and need something more. So I turn to what sustained me as a child singing myself to sleep, as an adolescent suffering the usual humiliations, as an adult struck by the lightning of betrayal and bereavement. Music. And if I ever I lose that precious sense of hearing, I’ll lay my head on my pillow until I hear the music of the spheres.

5 thoughts on “The thing about a broken heart..

  1. I think a broken heart is terminal, but mine has been sprained, over and over again. I always seek comfort in the belief that wounded people are more fascinating.

    Thanks for being fascinating, Mary-Lou.

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