About that Heartbreak.

 

Today I raced in the rain, across the beautiful green city of Edinburgh, to see an art exhibit entitled Paper Trail. As soon as I saw Ian Bamilton Finlay's visual poems I realized why.

Broken heart.

Ah.

A breadcrum I've been looking for.

In the underground corner of a Scottish museum, in a very foreign country I hadn't even planned to visit, with no one I love for miles, my loneliness was met. We are human. This is the sh!t we all deal with. We all have hearts.

They all break. 

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Chapters of heartbreak, deaths, losses have propelled me into a yearning to live life more vividly, and at this current moment into a raucous Scottish bar in a city that was never marked on my carefully charted itinerary. (Without any luggage- it's on a bus in the Lake District). 

The romantic heartbreak that I'm currently wrestling was a fast, fun, flurry of blond Australian-surfing laughter, wrapped up into a roller coaster of strong feelings, insane connection, and soothing depth I don't think either of us had expected. Layered mystical frosting of serendipity - we both call goats (and sometimes dolphins) our spirit animals - and this second I'm smiling at the Scottish rendition of Brown-Eyed girl (that was his karaoke jam) - these abundant and frequent agreements from the Universe, made/make the entire moment even more delicious, believable.  

I'm not sure why I'm still upset over it. I usually get over it much quicker. But, I really miss him.

That's all I can do right now. Kilted men are starting to worry about my tender demeanor. (Literally). Lol. More to come. Haha. ✌🏼️

Awe. No luggage. At least my room has a painting of one and where it should go.  

Awe. No luggage. At least my room has a painting of one and where it should go.  

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