"Is it more valuable to experience love's fleeting presence passing through a broken heart, or to know the broken pieces are there, in hand."

If you’ve taken our cues, done the due diligence, searched the records and suddenly find yourself feeling like you’ve hit the jackpot, well done. This was the aim of all of the nudges toward looking inward. Searching your pockets can sometimes turn up some spare change. The deeper you dig, the more you can discover. Amid the lint and bits of tissue, odd ends that you’ve stashed as you’ve trundled along on your journey, you can often find the edge of a coin. Silver and gold don’t shine as brightly as a token of your past come home, deposited in the account of good standing in the bank of Here and Now. In short, you’re bringing the lost treasure of your own precious self into a state of amalgamated wholeness. Don’t worry if you’re still struggling to figure this out. Whatever effort you put into it, even if that is to consider the places you can start searching for forgotten aspects of self, is going to have big payoffs. What you manage to bring together within yourself is going to start showing dividends in your reality. Patience is paying off.

What greater treasure is there in this world than love itself? It can take all manner of form, perform all kinds of functions. Love sustains what is looking at death, brings life to what has been hovering in the realm of mind, makes whole what had seemed hopelessly broken. Love does all these things. It is the superglue of universal materiality in all its shapes and movements. Are you beginning to believe this wholeheartedly? Are you all in? You can see very well the stark shadows of a world without love being welcome. Repulsed by the violence and chaos of anarchy, are you yearning for love? In confronting its denial, are you more firm in your devotion to the essential force of love? When there is little left to cling to, when your fingers are sifting through the bits and pieces of the disintegrated fabric of meaningful living, suddenly, to your delight, love reveals the smooth edge of its emergent form. You might have to dig, but you can find it. Look into the mess in front of you and see where that shining gleam of golden life is calling for discovery.

Despite the allure, not all have found the secret of treasure-hunting, where love is concerned. All around you, grieving hearts call out to be filled. Approach the boundary zone of a black hole with some caution. The time for shoveling your own energy into a bottomless pit is over. You’ve well explored that exercise in futility, and if you’ve been paying attention, you’ve learned something vitally important. You cannot fill a broken vessel. What is more valuable to one bereft of love’s treasure: to experience yet again its fleeting presence as it passes through the cracks of a broken heart, or to know that the broken pieces are there, in hand, and will fit perfectly to restore, rebuild, reaffirm life’s truth? With love as the glue, a broken heart is soon mended. The pieces are there. Dig. Draw the sharp edges of a painful memory into your hand that it may soften, release its tension, and slide back into place of completion. Every broken shard of self you draw out of the pocket of time back into remembrance is a piece of yourself restored. Do this. Mirror this, and glory in the art of love.

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