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The Vulnerable Heart

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell. ~C.S. Lewis

Broken Heart

How does one prepare for a broken heart?

Not a heart broken from unrequited love but a heart aching when the object of love takes wing, when the person loved grows vibrant and strong flight feathers, when the persons loved finally fledge and fly out the open door to their destiny.

There are times when the heart aches not from unrequited love but pain from love fulfilled.

I have created art, created personal masterpieces that I find difficult to give away. There is a part of me, a part of my heart in each and every creation. To give my art away feels as though a part of me is lost in the process.

My ultimate art has taken years to create, a work of art that slowly revealed itself, a work that though guided by my heart was a realization of itself and not truly of my creation. It was my job to help the work of art create itself with a nudge and a prod, to help the creation believe in itself.

To keep this art to myself would be to deny the essence of the art, to selfishly restrict the art from achieving it’s potential. To keep the art to myself would be to destroy the creation so I must let it go and let my heart break in the process for the art was not created for me but created for itself. There are time when one must allow the heart to break for the sake of the art.


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