I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil

J.R.R. Tolkien

I get a good amount of questions and an even greater amount of silent curiosity with respect to the odd sticker on the back of my cell phone case (shout out Casetify).

The sticker reads “Kiss my Quantum Entanglement” in bold, black lettering.

What this sticker means exactly, I cannot say for certain.

Nonsense? Perhaps.

But in the spirit of upholding my anti-taupe agenda when it comes to pretty much everything, to that I say, “it’s where science and romance collide–if you’re going to kiss me, make it count. If you’re going to love me, I’ll take a large non-fat, extra whip, no bullshit, in it with both feet and with you for the long-haul type of love, please.”

Quantum Entanglement is a concept that was first introduced in the 1920s by Albert Einstein, Boris Podolsky, and Nathan Rosen. In 1964, John Stewart Bell realized EPR was onto something with their paradox but a little off the mark. Bell said let’s get spooky and soon enough, an ironically happy accident was born.

It’s a bizarre and farfetched phenomenon in all the right ways–this idea that two subatomic physical particles can be intimately linked to each other even if separated by billions of light-years of time and space. Despite their vast separation, a change induced on one can somehow, in some way, affect the other.

Many speculate that this theory seems more whimsical than physical. Not to mention impractical.

University of Vienna physicist Anton Zeilinger says, “It’s something you cannot understand with your usual common sense.”

Now, had I known theoretical physics had anything to do with romcoms and love songs at the time, I would’ve passed those quantitative reasoning undergrad courses with flying colors.

See, once we meet someone, get to know them, and start to understand them on an intimate level, from that point on we are never the same.

It’s hard to define and even harder to quantify, but like with quantum mechanics–there’s this indestructible force of interconnectedness that remains when two people cross paths, even after they part ways.

Love is a fire that lights itself and dies out of itself, beyond our wills.”

Ghalib, Indian Poet

Two worlds collide and are forever changed.

I walked into this past summer with a lot of sadness in my chest. I was grieving what, at the time, seemed like the loss of my best friend and this dream I had in my head of what a future together might look like for us.

It was this painful yet necessary death of two things that helped get me through some difficult times. And although I knew the “end” was nearing and necessary, anticipation didn’t soften the blow.

Goodbyes are never easy, but this one was a particularly tough pill to swallow.

What are you supposed to do with all of the sadness? Where does it go? We’re just supposed to hold on to it? It feels like I carry it around in a tote bag with too-long straps, dragging it on the ground as I walk, wishing the cheap canvas material would rip open and alleviate me of all this extra weight.

Andy Whisney, Wall of Grief

After a good old ugly cry, I pulled myself up by the bootstraps and cast a new line into what has got to be Minnesota’s most barren lake–the dating pool.

I like to approach dating now as if it were a Sunday afternoon of recreational fishing. Catch and release.

After capture, a careful evaluation of the fish is performed, followed by posed photography for proof of the catch. Then the fish is unhooked, occasionally kissed, and tossed back into the water to be on its merry way.

Don’t worry about losing. If it’s right, it happens–the main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good ever gets away.

John Steinbeck, A Life in Letters

Over the course of the last few months, I’ve found myself contemplating the words inked on my back pretty frequently. In the words of the brilliant Glennon Doyle Melton, “We are alive only to the degree to which we are willing to be annihilated.”

I had this quote tattooed down the length of my spine after walking away from a different dead-end relationship.

The dead-end relationship.

It’s ironic that I never found so much comfort and relevance in those words until now. I’m not nearly as miserable as I was during and immediately after that breakup. In fact, I’d go as far as saying I am healthier today than I’ve ever been in all of the one and only Usher’s categories of well-being.

DJ please queue Love in this Club circa 2008.

I may not be suffering anymore, but I’ve learned there are different flavors of and degrees to which we experience annihilation in this lifetime. Especially when it comes to romantic relationships.

The jury is still out on which self-inflicted decision hurt more, using Glennon’s quote for tattoo art or making it my life’s mantra. Either way, we’ll chalk ’em both up as character-building.

I was still working through the sadness in my chest when I crashed into what one might call a “silver lining,” a few weeks later.

This was the first time I’d ever experienced anything resembling a “rebound” relationship. Or situation, as he liked to call it.

It made me realize that instead of mourning the end of something, it’s important to pour as much energy as you can into welcoming what’s next. We must drum up hope and excitement for the unknown, even if we don’t really possess any yet.

Where there is no hope it is incumbent on us to invent it

Albert Camus

Unfortunately, this situation also ended in a certain sad goodbye.

In his defense, he gave me plenty of opportunities to run for the hills and soften the blow of our impending expiration date. But, in true Ashley form, I chose to stay and run the risk of annihilation.

And I don’t regret it. The lessons from my labor with this one are profound in the simplest way. I learned that life is too short and time is too precious to half-ass any of it. Period.

There is nothing lost if we learn something from it. Your willingness to fail is proportionate to your potential to gain and grow. The timer never stops running. All you will regret is not reaching harder for the things you actually wanted, while they were still in front of you.

Brianna Wiest

The moment we choose to let someone in we are signing up for potential hurt. There’s no way around it. The ante to play love is possible heartbreak. But that’s the price we must pay for a chance to hit the high notes.

If we don’t ante up by playing it safe or avoiding communication and vulnerability, we will always be lukewarm lovers and never know what could have been.

My heart’s been broken a handful of times, just like most people. I’ve hurt others. I’ve let them down. I’ve been confused. I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been left. I’ve walked away. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve looked foolish. I’ve felt foolish.

Luckily, though, I think the more hard times we go through, the spunkier we become. Spunkier or jaded, maybe. But we’ll settle on the glass-half-full option, just this once.

I’ve had to start over with nothing but tears in my eyes and a chest full of grief.

But doing so has allowed me to experience fearless love. And once you’ve experienced that, you can’t go back to anything else.

In a previous post on the same topic, I went as far as suggesting we should “be afraid, be very afraid but don’t be careful. Love fiercely and don’t let anyone stand in your way…”

Ah, youth.

With about four more years of wisdom and heartache to boot, the advice I’d give now is a bit different. Practically the opposite, actually.

I’ll still give away my time and attention as fiercely as I always have, but I’ll also focus on doing it more thoughtfully.

Going balls-to-the-wall might be the only way we can experience this life, this earth, and its people to the full extent. And while it’s important to be fierce and unafraid, I think it’s just as important to be careful.

Are these guiding principles mutually exclusive when it comes to love? Maybe.

And so perhaps the only fool-proof approach in this case is calculated annihilation. The rejection, the hurt, the ending up alone–it’s all always a possibility.

But our hearts were not designed to love lightly. If we’re going to love, we might as well love hard.

Crash into them with all of your imperfect magic, and stardust and jagged edges.

Quantum entanglements only–because as far as I’m concerned, there is no other way.