Kintsugi and The Art of Heartbreak

Photo by SIMON LEE on Unsplash

We’ve all been down the road of love, though some have made more trips than others. If you’re still on your original trip you gotta tell me your secret. I thought I’d get a bit vulnerable and share a story in an effort to embrace resiliency.

The kind of love I’ve been seeking is the kind that I hope will eventually mature into what I call “Stirring the Oatmeal Love.” That’s when, after the frenetic energy of new love has worn away and I’ve been with my love long enough to grow old (or in my case, older) it might look something like this: I’m standing at the stove in my ratty, old bathrobe stirring the morning oatmeal and my sweetie looks at me from over the Sunday newspaper and says, “Damn baby, you still make me hot” to which I reply in my best Marilyn Monroe sultry, breathy voice, “I’m feeling kinda hot right now.” He would then look at me and chuckle as he pointed out the reason why I was feeling hot was because one of my boobs had sagged into the pot of oatmeal… thus explaining the heat I was feeling.

But I digress… that’s future love… this is now.

I think the word love is incredibly misunderstood. Is it a feeling? A noun? Is it a verb? What’s the difference between love and lust? Is there a difference? These are just a few of the thoughts that run through my mind when I contemplate the word “love” and my pursuit of it.

I believe love is a choice one makes daily. It’s an action verb that requires action. Believing this and doing it are two different things. Choosing to love someone scared the shit out of me. It was intimidating to choose to fall in love and then hope the recipient felt…