I’ve been thinking a lot about Harry Potter lately. That Rowling chick has some pretty deep wisdom in her writing. Amazing what a single mom waiting tables can scribble down on a few napkins. At least that is the version I’ve been told. Remember, I’m pretty gullible so, don’t judge me.
At the risk of being expelled for mentioning things in the forbidden section of the library, I’ve been thinking about the Horcrux idea. In the books, Lord V splits his soul and attaches parts of it to objects in order to insure his immortality. A very clever idea, although lacking in some judgment. Who wouldn’t want to live forever? Just tonight my son asked me a “would you rather” question about that very topic. “Would you rather win the lottery or live to be 200 years old?” or something like that. It was easy. I chose to live longer. After I answered, I thought about why I had answered the way I did. My first thought was I would be able to be with my children longer.Then I thought about money and how fleeting it is, and unimportant…unless you don’t have any….it is. Then I thought about the fact that I don’t play the lottery because I don’t believe in something for nothing. Then I thought about how wrinkly I would be at the age of 200. I might have made the wrong choice.
What if falling in love were like a Horcrux action? What if, every time someone fell in love, a piece of their heart became permanently attached to the person they fell in love with. Even if they later fell out of love with that person, the person they once loved kept that piece of their heart. How would that affect a person and their ability to love? In the HP books, Lord V became more evil and selfish and less and less human. Would it get harder for a person to love when parts of their heart were missing? Like big holes in a drainer….try as you might, you can’t keep the water in. Is that how it would be?
I’ve heard it said, probably in a movie, that when your heart gets broken it grows back bigger. I have really questioned that lately. My heart has been broken, several times. Sometimes by someone else and sometimes I’ve done it to myself. It doesn’t feel stronger, it feels cracked. It’s like grandmas favorite glass bowl she makes jello in, only with a wide crack down the side where that jello slowly leaks out and stains the table cloth. Try as I might, I can’t seem to keep it in.
So what does a person do when they have split their heart and lost pieces of it? Some might hide their heart away in a drawer in the back of their closet, afraid it will fall to pieces and nothing would be left. Others might try to hold it together with the duct tape of friendship and laughter, only to see it pulling and straining and wobbling. Others might fill that bowl as full of jello as they can and try to pass it around before it empties out.
But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe a broken heart does grow back bigger and stronger and more able to love and be loved. Maybe a broken heart is required before a person can every truly love. Maybe the cracks and fissures and missing pieces are the places where love comes in, not goes out.
I really don’t have an answer for you. All I know is that we all want love, in one form or another. Its what we crave, need, and search for whether we will admit it or not… Cause I said so.
Photo credit: http://www.muslinmatters.org