A friend shared a line from Rupi Kaur:
"What is stronger
Than the human heart
Which shatters over and over
And still lives"
And I ponder all the versions of the shattering.
Death. Betrayal. Loss. Change. Loneliness. Abuse. Growth.
In amazement, I stare at the last word on my list. Growth. Growth means something must shatter.
A paradigm. A belief. A cell.
And the shattering feels like hell. But then, on second thought, it's hell that's do-able. It's pain that I think will become everlasting. But it doesn't. In the end, I am always ok. In the writhing and the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, I am o.k.
So, either hell isn't as bad as my mind makes it out to be, or nothing can really feel like hell. Because hell is final. Without end.
And growth-- isn't.
It's just growth. Cyclical waves of joy, hope, sorrow and mundane.
It's growth.
We shatter and live
Shatter and live
Shatter and live.
And I think--
In the end, I truly think--
We call it beautiful.
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