I was just about to pour myself a cup of tea when I noticed how the glaze on the inside of the cup had begun to form lines, like many tributaries flowing out from one river. Like my many laughter lines. It’s far from broken, but I was reminded of the beautiful Japanese art of ‘kintsugi’, which is ‘to repair with gold’.
The philosophy behind this art is that by repairing a broken cup or vase with gold (and tree sap) as the glue, the repaired vessel becomes even more precious than the original. This practice is related to the Japanese philosophy of ‘wabi-sabi’, which finds beauty in the imperfect, as well as ‘mushin’, the acceptance of change.
Which in turn reminded me of a beautiful quote in The Other Hand by Chris Cleave, about scars. Here it is in full:
“On the girl’s brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
Which in turn reminded me, as ever, of Rumi:
I said: what about my eyes?
He said: Keep them on the road.
I said: What about my passion?
He said: Keep it burning.
I said: What about my heart?
He said: Tell me what you hold inside it?
I said: Pain and sorrow.
He said: Stay with it. The wound is the place where the Light enters you.
In today’s world, we might feel that compared to others we have it lucky and so shouldn’t pay much heed to our own wounds; our losses, disappointments or our regrets. But it’s when we do just this – when we open our hearts to our pain and sorrow – that the lotus begins to grow from the mud. And then the sunshine of joy brings us into bloom. And we don’t just do this for ourselves, but for each other and for the collective. It’s taken me half a century to realise, but we really get growing when we bring compassionate enquiry to what is most challenging for us.
Like all inner work, it’s a fine line between addressing what causes us pain and becoming comfortable with suffering. We say we want to ‘let it go’… while we carry on holding on. Someone once suggested to me that we be honest with ourselves about why we hold onto our pain and consider what reassurances we need to let go (journaling is so helpful for this exploration).
But if you’re willing to feel lost, then you’re on your way to finding yourself.