These creatures, carved out with jagged spines, razor-sharp teeth and those flailing sharp-edged protuberances atop its head embody a desperate struggle between a desperate yearning to connect entwined with the certainty of wounding one another.
Each attempt of social interaction, be it a dance, a game or even lively chat, often ends with bruises and small nicks from their jagged edges. The dilemma they face is the nearer they draw to each other, the more harm they invariably inflict until, eventually, the ache forces them apart.
Yet, long after separation, the scent of their companion lingers within their powerful noses and acts as a bittersweet reminder of their friend they have parted ways with.
It is fitting I first met these resilient beings during a tumultuous chapter of my own life when a budding romance hung by a thread as delicate as the Lornino's wings, and one unravelling quickly due to my monster hunting obsessions.
Drawn by an unspoken kinship to the creatures, and heavy of heart, I buried myself in research as I am prone to do. I observed their tireless efforts to touch, to play, to unite - each endeavour kindled by hope, each ending in quiet pain and separation. But what surprised me was there was no sorrow in their eyes, or forlorn nature in their posture. There was a fierce celebration of living in the moment and a radiant joy of simply experiencing the moment for however long it lasted.
Each impromptu dance was a celebration, each garbled conversation or game a moment of bliss that would have been denied had the Lornino simply recoiled at the chance of being hurt. Some seemed to overcome this and find a way to live with each other as if finding the perfect fit amid a sea of spiked puzzle pieces.
All of which would have been denied had fear ruled them. It was then I learned the Lornino teach us that the ache of parting ways does not lessen the value of reaching out, taking a chance and daring to open ourselves to love and opportunity even if it may end it pain. This whispered a truth I desperately needed, that the flicker of pain is the price we pay for the gift of life, love and being able to feel all the emotions inside us.
Even in heartache there is life. In loss there is a courage to try again.
With a gentle pat to a passing Lornino, I found the courage to pick up the phone—to summon the bravery to call, to reach, to love once more.
For even if love wells up and spills into sorrow, it is better to have felt its fierce pulse, and to keep stepping forward, just as the Lornino do, time and again.