Did you ever feel broken?
Do you know that frozen second of time where you can see a cup falling down, not yet having touched the floor? That second where you hold your breath, where time stands still and you know it’s too late to fight what is meant to be, that sacred in between of an old life that is about to fall apart and a new life in which the puzzle pieces are trying to find the place that has been theirs all along.
Maybe you cover your ears with your hands not to hear the cringing sound of breaking porcelain, crushing bones and shattering hearts. Maybe you close your eyes not to see the damage that is about to happen right in front of you. Or maybe you just stand there and that moment of all or nothing becomes your world. Maybe just for a while.
And then when the life of that one second comes to an end, you fall to your knees and you fight back your tears because you know that when you weep for too long it will be just too damn hard to find your sherds through the fog. And maybe you can’t find them all, maybe some remain hidden under the heaviest piece of furniture in the corner of your living room till you die and then your kids get rid of that old cupboard and just swipe away the long forgotten parts of your self with the rest of the dust. And maybe that is just the way things should be.
While sitting on your knees in confusion and not knowing you let your sherds slip through your fingers, you feel the sharp edges of who you used to be and the raw structure of your inner porcelain that once was fluid. And you know very well that some pieces you’ll never find again and you ask yourself which ones to keep and which ones to leave on the floor to be swiped away with the dust.
It is a story of letting go, and it’s a story of receiving, of sitting in the mud and in the darkness of your life and still having your hands wide open, of glueing your cup with the blind faith that whatever comes out of it will be beautiful in its own way.
Yes there is grace in the night too. There is beauty in brokenness.
Life is about breaking – over and over again. Breaking apart to grow back together to more of who you really are. It’s not about fixing… it’s about growing.
Right now something is happening I never anticipated. At least not to this extent.
While my pelvis got broken and I can’t go anywhere, I can feel my inner porcelain becoming fluid again. I have been cracked open to the core of my being and it feels as if I am washed with a wave of compassion and kindness that goes deeper than any of these feelings I ever felt before.
I always considered myself an empathic and very kind person, but this…
This is disarming me, in a good way, this is stripping me down, there is something soft settling inside of me, looking for shelter in my new house of growing bones.
Leonard Cohen sang “There is a crack in everything. That’s where the light gets in.” And Rumi wrote “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” I believe the crack is not just where the light gets in but it’s also where the light gets out. It’s where the inner gold shines through. It’s a shimmer of your gift for the world.
Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold. It’s the art of embracing the broken, of honoring the old in transforming to new, of creating beauty out of brokenness. It is the knowing that our scars are the glue, the gold of connection, the medicine that defines us and heals us and it’s our offering to the community. It’s the pine sap of our broken branches. To me this pottery looks more beautiful than before.
My condition is not life threatening. And yet, it ís life threatening. Every breaking of a cup is life threatening. It is life threatening to the life I have been living up till now, to the person I was before my bones got broken and rearranged. The cup will never ever be the same again.
Yet at the same time it is life giving. It is only when I die to an old story that the new one can be born. It is only when the cup breaks in a thousand pieces that we can shift and rearrange and glue our new story into being with the gold of our brokenness. It is only then that our pine sap starts to flow, that our inner porcelain becomes fluid again.
So please let’s not protect our loved ones from brokenness, let’s not run away from the mess in our lives, let’s feel the shaking to the core of our beings, let’s be brave and throw our old cups to the floor, let’s allow the sherds of our hearts and souls cut the flesh of our bodies, let’s listen to the cry of the earth “the time is now”, let’s grow, and let our gold create connection. Let our children stumble and fall, let them have bleeding knees and broken bones, let them break up with their lovers and let them fight with their inner selves. Because if we don’t let them, we stop them from becoming who they really are and from sharing their gift with the world.
Yes I truely believe that sometimes
broken bones are the best chance we have.
With love and kindness and deep gratitude,
power to the people,
PS: I’m 8 weeks post-op now and the past two weeks have been really hard. 2 weeks ago I got the good news that my bones are growing, and yet somehow it’s only now while I am starting to learn to walk again that it hit me how incredibly long this road is gonna be. But I’m letting my pieces go through my fingers and the gold is flowing and I am grateful for my brokenness.