It was a beautiful spring morning and I was washing the breakfast dishes, looking east as the sun rose. Tears were streaming down my face as Peter Mayer sang the song, “Japanese Bowl”, from his album called “Heaven Below.”
“I’m like one of those Japanese bowls
That were made long ago
I have some cracks in me
They have been filled with gold.
That’s what they used back then
When they had a bowl to mend
It did not hide the cracks
It made them shine instead.
So now every old scar shows
From every time I broke
And anyone’s eyes can see
I’m not what I used to be.”
I know the feeling of being broken and cracked open. I know the feeling that my old scars and wounds are visible for all to see. I also know the slow journey of restoration, and the work of mending those cracks.
Candice Kumai in her book called Kintsugi Wellness: The Japanese Art of Nourishing Mind, Body and Spirit (Harper Wave, 2018) writes that “Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold - built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art. Every break is unique and instead of repairing an item like new, the 400-year-old technique actually highlights the “scars” as a part of the design. Using this as a metaphor for healing ourselves teaches us an important lesson: sometimes in the process of repairing things that have broken, we actually create something more unique, beautiful and resilient.”
Years ago, Rachel Naomi Remen, MD, one of the earliest pioneers in the mind/body health field, and one of the first to develop a psychological approach to working with people with life-threatening illness, described working with a cancer patient who was struggling. The patient drew a picture of herself as a vase covered in cracks. She felt like her life was breaking into pieces.
One day, this patient asked Dr. Remen to see the picture again. The patient worked some more on the drawing and then showed it to her doctor. Each of the cracks she had originally drawn now had yellow light pouring out from them. She told Dr. Remen that the cracks were where her inner light could shine through. She had transformed her view of her illness from a problem to an opportunity to live in a new way.
As we walk a path with heart, we will experience moments which are challenging on the inside and the outside. We will feel our scars, our pain, and our difficulties. They do not go away just because we have committed to walking a path with heart.
Instead, we have to accept our past choices and experiences. We have to realize that we did the best we could with the information we had and the history we had experienced. We also need to understand that everyone around us has their own scars, and their own history. We are a community of broken bowls moving forward one step at a time.
With this perspective, I have learned to embrace my own imperfections and to have compassion for those around me. I give grace and forgiveness to myself. I show it to others, too. With this perspective, I continually seek oneness and acceptance of my own and our collective cracks instead of following a path of separation and alienation because of our cracks.
On that beautiful spring morning, my wife, Jane, stood beside me, and put her hand on my back. We listened as the final verses were sung.
“But in a collector’s mind
All of these jagged lines
Make me more beautiful
And worth a much higher price
I’m like one of those Japanese bowls
I was made long ago
I have some cracks you can see
See how they shine of gold.”
A path with heart is a healing path and a challenging path. And as we travel on this path, we must embrace our flaws and imperfections, and not judge others who also have them. We must not hide our cracks, but honor them. We must always remember that they are filled with gold and we are beautiful and whole just as we are.
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