Lessons from a Falling Star

Heartbreak is exquisite, and beautiful like a falling star.

It hurts, yes, but how wondrous that we can be so fragile and yet so strong.

And that’s where I’ve been: getting my heart broken and not quite able to talk about it. I’ve been swept up in my new business too, and undoing myself so that I could allow who I am to emerge. But let’s talk about the heartbreak, because I know we all love a good love story, right?

Chapter 1.

It began in the autumn, with a road trip. There was music filling the air and the trees of the Northeast had just begun to show their colors. Like any drive to someplace new, my friend and I were excited. The adventure had been planned for weeks. We spent the time in the car speculating what might happen. There was an eagerness in our eyes.

I expected it to be rather short and simple. Arrive. Get what we need. Go home. A clean getaway.

But there are times in our lives where we meet people and immediately know they’ll be special to us. Our body whispers it: a heartbeat seems to be missing, a breath falls short, something blurs on the edge of vision.

That’s the way it was when I first met him.

Instantly special.

I hated him for it.

Chapter 2.

Everything about the situation put my mind and heart at war. I felt the way I did, but he had a girlfriend. So I hardened myself, told myself to forget him. I found other ways to occupy my mind.

We saw each other twice. The first time was business, but we shared a meal afterward and a good conversation. A few months later, we found each other at the same event. And there seemed to be something there: a mutual understanding, a common interest, a spark I couldn’t explain.

I didn’t say anything. How could I confess that I felt something for him I had never felt for anyone before?

So that’s what star crossed feels like.

Chapter 3.

Our paths crossed again. There was moonlight and firelight and a bottle of truth serum. I suddenly didn’t have to hide what I wanted — and even more, it appeared he felt the same way.

So I let myself hope, I allowed my heart to expand and swell and take over. And for two days, I was blissfully drunk on the possibility of what might happen next.

But next, there was silence, followed only by the sound of my heart breaking.

Suddenly, I understood that sometimes the heart has to break to be stronger. Sometimes, we have to get exactly what we want to realize the world wants more for us. Sometimes, we have to be wildly grateful for fleeting moments, for cracks in space and time where you’re willing to be vulnerable even if it means getting hurt.

And whatever we do, we shouldn’t ever stop wishing on shooting stars.

{photograph by Fredrik Thommesen, used under Creative Commons License}