and we called that calculation perfect love

So we made our own computer out of macaroni pieces
And it did our thinking while we lived our lives
It counted up our feelings
And divided them up even
And it called that calculation perfect love

— The Calculation, by Regina Spektor

Speaking of perfect love, I was browsing blogs some time ago when I stumbled on this really intriguing Etsy product, spotlighted on Here Comes the Sun, who found it on tumblr.

The description as written on her blog:

Corezone is a ceramic heart-shaped vessel that you can place your thoughts, feelings and emotions into. Write them down on pieces of paper and put them inside. You must then physically break your own heart to free them.

From the Etsy listing description itself:

An attempt to fulfill emotional needs by the means of an object, a try to withhold immaterial beeing in a material space.

Very interesting! The shop recently reopened, selling this item and they’re selling very fast. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a product like this. It’s like a piggy bank, except you don’t put money into it. You put things that are intangible, like thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Things you might not want people to see. Things you might want to keep hidden away. And if you ever want to find them again, you have to break the heart. It’s like a diary, except that you have to take some drastic measures to read what you’ve written.

These things are, in a sense, more precious than gold or silver. They are little scraps of paper which are wound tightly around our own hearts, and through the pulse and the beat remind us that we are living and breathing. They contribute to who we are.

Makes me think of true love.

Maybe we as human beings speak of finding true love and our “Heart’s Desire.” At the same time, we would protect our hearts so truly, barricade them in a dungeon… protect them too truly till we forget that we once knew what true love meant.

Falling in love is dangerous.

Automatons in glass houses, and paper birds in our skies.

We would hide our true feelings so deeply that we would bypass true love and the things we really need. Simply because true love is a fearsome thing. Deep. And heartbreaking in so many ways. Risky. Like promises made in the dark and a crumbling at the sunrise and a setting into stone all at once.

Or are we are so blinded by our failures that some of us would rather believe that there is no such thing as true love? Because while I hold out my heart to you, you could leave me alone to pick up the pieces when it falls? If I took the biggest risk of loving someone who might never ever love me back, what should I do when I have lost the gamble? Or because I have already held my heart out to someone who walked away with it, and it took me a while to glue it back together?

So in the process, we would make our love a small small thing. We’re safe, but are we happy?

Our love would be precise and calculated, give a little of this and take a little of that, and someone to keep the balance and a glass jar full of change. If you offer your heart, strings are attached and they must not break. I like you, but we must live our lives making sure the balances are kept, one on either side of the wall.

We would have it all, and we have nothing.

And we don’t know anything… anything at all. Because we would not reveal too much, or release too much. In a sense, the loneliness of comforting, because the unknown is rather too frightening.

Though we are together, we are actually alone…

Maybe sometimes we do try to lock away our feelings and emotions inside little glass boxes, and attempt to hide the key somewhere so far away that we’ll eventually forget where we put it?

What if you were to one day wake up, and take our little glass hearts, and break them, letting all our buried thoughts and emotions spill out into the daylight? And the wall shall break, and there will only be “green grass where it once stood…”

To find true love, you might have to go deeper.

You might even have to break your heart to get there.

Pictures from Etsy. Song lyrics: The Calculation by Regina Spektor, from the 2009 album Far.

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