Kintsugi is the incredible form of Japanese art focused on repairing damaged pottery. Known as the 'golden repair,' the technique involves combining lacquer with gold, silver or platinum to form new bonds.
The narrative of a piece being reworked undergoes enriching fortification, efforts in of themselves that preserve and extol its existence and passage along its particular journey, its golden journey. The act of forging new bonds acknowledges and incorporates the history of an object, as something to be embraced, even displayed, rather than glossed over and concealed.
It's celebratory. From the Japanese aesthetic, wabi-sabi, it's cherished for its 'flawed beauty.'
Not unlike these beautiful objects that are transformed while being restored to purpose, in our bang and clang as beautifully flawed beings, we each embark on our own golden journey.
We get bruised along the way. Chipped and cracked. We do it to ourselves. Others do it to us. We do it to others. And sometimes, it just rains.
No matter how it happens, it ends up the same. We become broken along our journey. As we endure season after endless season, that can spawn growth, understanding and personal evolution; we are fortified with the bonds of courage, boldness and perseverance. Our broken pieces enhance our stories, strengthen our witness.
As 2016 begins its descent, my pieced-together spirit holds imperfect gratitude for a few, notably long, overlapping seasons that could not be survived without the existence of the others. Especially in our pause at Thanksgiving, I am so aware of my brokenness as I trod an alto "Turn, Turn, Turn." Yet, I look upward and say Thank You.
For the rainy season. For the tearing down and building up. For being able to move back into our flood-gutted home this past February. The perspective garnered will ever guide our steps. Our trajectory changed that electric-zapping, sprint-scramble of a night, little we knew, and I can never utter Thank You enough.
For the season of living with the unknown. For the tearing apart and sewing together. For the pain-endured uphill battles to finally arrive at Dr. "N." Who sat across from me, looked me directly in the eyes and listened intently, no rush, to the nine years of struggle. Birthing a tenth year, coined my 'healing year.' Fostering regeneration in every bud of thought. Organically unfolding, I can never utter Thank You enough.
For the season of support. For the planting and reaping. For Dr. "H" specifically. Who has been, these past years now, the natural resource guide traversing just steps ahead, the narrow mountain trail towards "know thyself." Empowering me to parse my steps, I can never utter Thank You enough.
For the countless seasons of Life. Of struggle and growth, of good times and hard. For the never-ending-love-story of Joe and Heather, as our broken bonds fashion strength and capacity. For my children, God, how I love them. Elliot rushed into the bedroom yesterday morning, break of day (too damn early kid), just to describe the beauty of the "pink and straw colored" sunrise. That same sun is rising for my babes, they are yet in early hour in the day of their lives. Mystery and adventure before them. It's happening so fast. For each and every moment, I can never utter Thank You enough.
Seasons will cycle without cease. The waters recede but nomadic spirits remain. The unknown is revealed but the subsidence is still underway. The narrow path is still a forever climb I must strive towards onward-ho.
In the broken and beautiful vessel that is my life's journey, I can only utter Thank You.
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