“What happens when people open their hearts? They get better.” ― Haruki Murakami

Healing after heartbreak is an art. It requires my active participation though my natural tendency is to run away from sadness. These days, I embrace the pain and even nurture it lovingly, thanking it for its seed of softness.

When they come, I allow the streams of salt and warmth to run down my cheeks, making their way to the cliff of my chin until they dive off into the abyss. Each tear releasing space for something new and possibly beautiful.

Healing reminds me of kintsugi, sometimes called kintsukuroi – the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer mixed with powered gold.

My heart, full of its own gold dusted scars of wisdom, can be seen as a piece of art, instead of just in pieces. I can feel broken-hearted instead of just broken. I can feel disappointed and also reborn.

My art is evidence I have loved well. A symbol of playing full out, not holding back. And I hang it on the wall of my life with pride.

[Photo by Riho Kitagawa on Unsplash]