7 seconds.

That’s the average time a person spends in front of an art piece while wandering through a museum.

Da Vinci spent four years painting the Mona Lisa, and most spend just 7 seconds viewing it.

Why?

Because at 7 seconds, the painting starts doing its work.

That’s when the art begins to speak to you. Art is a portal to new thoughts and hidden realities. It can be an argument, presenting ideas contrary to your beliefs. Art becomes a mirror, reflecting parts of yourself you either love, hate, or didn’t even know existed.

At seven seconds, art starts telling you its truth.

If you can appreciate what is being said, you’ll stay. You’ll allow its ruthless assertions to move through you. You’ll experience its beauty and its darkness as your own. You may even find yourself riveted, frozen in awe, with tears in your eyes.

However, if the art does what it ought to do—which is challenge your most cherished beliefs and call in new parts of your identity—you may suddenly become “bored” and quietly move along to the next painting.

But is it boredom? Perhaps it’s a mask for fear. Maybe boredom is a coping mechanism we’ve developed to opt out of presence when we don’t want to face something—like our confusion, our fear of rejection, or our perceived lack of intelligence or imagination.

We dismiss what we cannot understand or bear to know.

Being shamed by the fierce honesty of a painting is not easy. And so, we leave. We leave because we feel threatened. We leave because the art is inviting us to grow, accommodate new truths, and change who we are—and that kind of change is terrifying.

Humans don’t like terror. So we leave.

Love is the most beautiful art form in the world, so it’s no surprise many people follow the same patterns in their romantic lives. Many break up with their partner not because they dislike the person or think they’re not good enough. Often, they leave because they are scared. They’re afraid of what the relationship is telling them about themselves. They’re worried they are not enough. They’re averse to vulnerability. They’re avoiding failure, success, heartbreak, intimacy, pain.

True love is not for the faint-hearted. It’s a gladiator sport.

Why? Because you have to be willing to die for it.

Not a physical death, but the death of your current identity.

To love someone fully—really fully—you must be willing to transcend your coveted “I” for a larger “We.” And that is absolutely frightening. But if it’s the right relationship, the “We” gives you back an “I” way bigger, better, and healthier than the one you originally sacrificed. When you shift your identity to the “We,” your “I” evolves to the next level. But you can't offer up your "I" on the altar of "Us" unless you already deem it sacred. Building your selfhood into a piece of art you're proud of is a pre-requisite for trading it up.

My husband Eben says: “It doesn’t take a lot to be in love… it takes everything.”

J.P. Barlow said: "The difference between love and true love is the difference between a very large number and infinity."

In some cases, we're not willing to risk everything or approach infinity. Sometimes, completing a relationship is the best move forward for both parties. But it should never be done out of boredom, disdain, or anger. Rather, a healthy break-up is the graduation from one school of relationship to make room for another. Every romance is a powerful education. You can love someone deeply yet not be a good match.

Never break up in anger or during a fight; it reduces the self-esteem of the entire system. The ninja move (and hardest) is to break up from the place where you love each other the most. Always try to preserve the dignity of both partners and honor the growth you shared together. How you leave your last relationship highly governs your success in the next.

So, here’s what I’m inviting you to think about today:

If you’re with someone—on a date, in a relationship, or a marriage—and think you might be "bored, done, ready to leave," ask yourself honestly: Are these feelings true? Or are you secretly afraid? Afraid of the massive work entailed in who you’d have to become to keep the dynamic alive and thriving. This same work will eventually show up with every subsequent partner. There's no way to escape our shadow in authentic romance. Whoever you're with now is either “The One” or "Practice for the One," so always bring your A-game.

Consider this: Is the version of who you’d have to become (in order to make your relationship flourish) a more trustable, reliable, conscious, and powerful person? If the answer is yes, then this is your call to greatness.

The trick is to breathe into your frustrations and examine what’s really happening underneath. Mostly, we're angry with ourselves for not representing our needs. Or angry at another for failing to live into our own expectations. Only from this belief—that we participate heavily in creating most of our relational realities, including the sub-optimal ones—can we uncover the unconscious commitments that undermine our success.

If you dig down deep enough, you may hit a layer of hopelessness inside your relationship. But don't worry. Despair does not signify the end. It can be a great incubator for love. In the darkest moments, if you can stand for a future possibility based on its sheer beauty and importance—with no evidence of success—then you’ll have the one skill every successful relationship must develop: Faith. It is the only lantern you can light in the dark with your imagination.

Love is scary because the stakes are high. Your heart, your body, and your immortality are all on the line. That’s why I tell my clients: “If you don’t feel terrified at some point in the courtship, then it’s not likely True Love.”

Yet nothing—literally nothing—in the human experience can compare to the consummate aliveness of being in love. I believe it’s the highest-order game we can play in our lifetime. Beyond all the traditional success you might accomplish in other areas, to live your entire life never having known true love with another is to miss out on the most exquisite aspect of being human. Anyone who's had the privilege of knowing one person loves them—fully, no matter what, until death—will say the same thing: It's worth the work.

Some questions for you:

• Are you willing to stay in the game, past the edges of your discomfort?
• Can you let a fallible, imperfect human being become a masterpiece in your own eyes?
• Do you have the courage to breathe through that primal desire to leave when things get hard?
• If you knew the next greatest version of yourself could emerge through this relationship, would that be enough to inspire you through the terror?

I hope so.

Next time you’re in a museum, on a date, or with an angry partner, notice the moment you get bored, scared, angry, and want to tune out, close your heart, or leave. This is where you get to make that heroic choice between love and fear. Breathe into the discomfort and stay present just a bit longer. It will feel counter-intuitive, but lean in—physically, emotionally, and intellectually. Keep your heart and mind open to the possibility that an epic transformation is longing to take place. Stay for the opportunity to meet a new strength in yourself. Stay until you can feel this current moment as an art piece on which you can proudly sign your name.

And then sign your name.

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