“But now we must rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again;
he was lost and has been found.”
Luke 15: 32
This is the time of Lent when we hear the story of the Prodigal Son; the ultimate story of brokenness and mercy.
A few weeks ago, my daughter and I attended a local workshop to create our own kintsugi art piece. I’ve written about this form of art before, you can read it here. The workshop was called “Find Your Pieces – Tell Your Story”!
The workshop was run by an Art Therapist, and she did a wonderful job walking us through the process, really honoring the Japanese tradition and its deeper meaning of transformation. It was more than just an artistic process from start to finish, but intentional steps meant to heal. It was a pleasant surprise as I thought I was spending an evening creating.
First, we were able to choose our own hand-thrown, ceramic bowl. If we didn’t like what was in our box, we could trade (which my daughter and I did); she wanted deeper, and I wanted wider. We were asked to become aware of what we were bringing to class. Were there specific thoughts, emotions, or a state of being where we felt stuck or lost? At first, it was a little uncomfortable for me; sitting in a room full of strangers and being asked to connect to my bowl; being asked to notice its vacancy, and asking if there was room for its abundance. But, eventually, I leaned into the process, stayed focused, and used my coaching awareness skills. Now enter the hammer.
Taking a hammer to a perfectly whole object, for me, just felt wrong. We were encouraged to pay attention to how that felt. Not to analyze it, but to just pay attention. Interestingly, we were instructed to place our hand on the bottom of the bowl to secure it, then, with one swing, hit the bowl. Each bowl broke in its own unique way, with the security of our hand bracing it. Some broke into two perfect pieces, others with many random shapes and sizes. Now, we had the task of piecing it back together.
We began by choosing how we wanted to paint our pieces. Will we start with the larger pieces or the smaller ones? The inside or the outside? Light colors, or dark? or, none at all?
The point of Kintsugi is not to “repair” the piece back to its original state, but to create something new from the broken pieces. As we connected each piece, we were asked to recall that awareness we had brought to the class and view it again through the broken pieces that were in front of us. How will we choose to connect them moving forward? What new masterpiece will we choose to create?
I have no idea why I chose the colors I did, but after my bowl was completed, it reminded me of the elements of creation that I love – the blue of the ocean and sky and the green of the mountains and trees. The purple weaves through the center. Purple! Why did I add purple? It was the night before Lent began; repentance and royalty. Apprapot that purple flowed through the center.
Do you notice anything here? Something missing?
I was upset with myself that what I thought was my final piece didn’t fit. It wasn’t in fact the last piece, but fit in at an earlier stage which I missed. The perfectionist in me became rattled, but just then, the instructor said, “take notice of any places where the pieces no longer fit, or where an empty space just seems necessary.” Yes! It was then that the quote came back to me,
We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.
Although, not the original quote, the above is adapted from the writing of two authors, Cohen & Hemingway. Again, you can read more about this quote in an earlier essay I wrote on Kingsigi art, here.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Cohen from Anthem
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
Hemingway, from A Farewell To Arms
The world brings us pain and resilience, the wise authors tell us, but God fills in the broken places and makes them stronger. The gold that overlays each crack, strengthens it. The crack, the brokenness remains. It isn’t meant to be removed, it’s part of our healing. Part of our strength. Part of our story.
Find Your Pieces – Tell Your Story.
Understanding our stories is just as important as sharing them. It can help guide us toward being more intentional in our work, our spiritual life, and our relationships. If you’d like more help cultivating your story, and would like to learn more about working with me as a Catholic Life Coach, click here.
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