You've thrown your heart off a cliff...
Same heart. Different cliff. It shatters on the rocks far below. You stare at the pieces, spread all across the beachhead. And, after staring, you begin the slow walk down the cliff edge to the shore.
This is how we learn about ourselves. It's where we learn what we are made of. Because when you are smashed apart, when you are picking up the pieces, that's when you see all the things that you are. It's when you see all the things that you had forgotten that you were. It's when you actually stop and notice what is there.
You see your childlike naivete lying under a rock, next to your courage. You walk over and pick them up, you turn them over in your hands and you see them. They have not changed, those parts of you. They were always there, but now as you rub the sand from them, you come to see them differently, your perception changes ever so slightly. You see them for what they are. And you see that whilst hearts are susceptible to breakage, there are some things inside them that can't be broken.
Unsurprisingly, the next thing you find is your curiosity half-buried in the sand. The surf breaks over it, washing it clean. Nearby is your sense of humour, chuckling to itself at the irony of finally ending up on top (literally) of your sobriety.
You walk barefoot in the sand as you pick up each piece. The world is new and dangerous. But you feel fearless. Then you notice that your fear is lying underneath a piece of driftwood. You sigh to yourself... that would explain it. You brush off the sand with your fingers and put it next to your strength and your persistence.
You walk the beach, until the sun goes down, collecting the pieces of your broken heart. You pick up your pride and your ambition. Nearby, you find your generosity and your hope. You stumble across your envy and jealousy beneath a piece of seaweed. Those two are never far away from each other. You consider leaving them behind but your sense of fairness (which you just found underneath some spiral shells) won't allow it. And that's for the best. They are part of who you are for better or for worse.
You find your sense of competition nearby and for some unknown reason you find your vanity, your kindness and your hysteria in extremely quick succession shortly thereafter. You find your clarity around the next corner and the reason becomes clear.
And then, finally, you are done.
You sit on the sand and look at your collection of treasures. You see some things for the first time. Parts of you that you never even realised were there because they had been hidden away for so long. Slowly, almost reluctantly, afraid you will lose a piece or miss something out, you reassemble your heart.
When you are finished, you pry open your ribcage and place it carefully back in your chest. The pieces are the same, but it feels different, because you know more about what's inside it than you did before.
You climb slowly back up the cliff and leave the beach behind. And you know that at some point, perhaps not soon, but someday, you will return to the sea.
And you will stand at the edge of a different cliff. And you will take your heart in your hands and hurl it once again to the rocks below. And it will shatter once more.
But when you go down to the waters edge, and search for all the pieces, you know that you will see them differently once more. And you will find something there that you simply didn't know you had.
That's got to be good news.