Already Broken
Hello again.
How are you these days? This isn't a random question thrown out as if I was just passing by. I honestly want to know - how are you doing, and how are you being?
The photo above was taken in my home a few days ago. I call her, "Already Broken", and yep - she's got some stories.
With 4 people (2 adults, 2 teens) living in a house for 2 months under a stay-at-home order, things can get .... interesting.
We've had our ups and downs, as has everyone.
This little mama angel was with us long before this all started. One day a few weeks ago, my son accidentally knocked her off the surface where she'd sat for months (years?), and one of her wings broke off.
I was a bit put off (leave it to the carelessness of a teen), but he superglued it back on and she went back to her watchful place on the counter.
Only a week or so later, in a flurry of activity, I ended up catching her wing on my sleeve...and down to the floor she crashed. This time, both of her wings broke away. (Leave it to the carelessness of harried mom.)
She sat, wingless, for many weeks while life continued on around her. Yesterday, while glancing at her, I knew exactly what she needed from me.
The Japanese have a beautiful practice called Kintsugi, which is the "art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum".
While there are many reasons and meanings for this, one that I love is the idea of seeing the beauty not only in the whole and seemingly "put-together", but also in that which has been broken. The bowl AND the cracks.
It isn't trying to hide what others would consider flaws - rather, to highlight them. To add even more value by accenting the storylines.
Alongside this practice, I love contemplating the idea that everything in my life is already broken.
That might seem depressing. At its core, however,
it is deeply beautiful and freeing to realize what is and to release our clinging to how we want things to be and to remain.
There is a story (told here in 2 different ways) that beautifully illustrates this:
“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”
~ version by Mark Epstein (from Thoughts Without a Thinker: Psychotherapy from a Buddhist Perspective)
"'One day Ajahn Chah held up a beautiful Chinese tea cup, “To me this cup is already broken. Because I know its fate, I can enjoy it fully here and now. And when it’s gone, it’s gone.'” When we understand the truth of uncertainty and relax, we become free."
~ version by Jack Kornfield (from The Wise Heart)
(Both stories from : https://www.stevenkharper.com/thiscupIsalreadybroken.html)
Back to my angel.
She is a mother in her most goddess-like form. Her wings had broken, and yet...that's who she already was. Her story was just now more complete.
“Each of you is perfect the way you are ... and you can use a little improvement.”
―Shunryu Suzuki
I wasn't going to leave my angel wing-less. Nor was I going to toss her simply because she appeared to be broken.
I took that superglue, pieced her back together, then highlighted her cracks with a bit of gold-colored paint. (It was as close to the practice of Kintsugi as I was going to get.) I did so with great attention, allowing all the thoughts of what I wasn't doing or should be doing to fade into the background while I delicately painted over each line.
I teach my students that you are what you re-member. You are constantly changing, and you are composed of parts, or "members". Stories, thoughts, cells, ... you are what you bring back as part of yourself, moment after moment. You are what you re-member.
She is helping me to re-member the most beautiful parts of my life.
Her cracks tell the stories of these days spent together with my family, of this time when we are navigating constantly being together - for the best and the worst.
The shimmering gold helps me to re-member slowed, focused attention is necessary to care for the most important things in life. The little things, the little cracks, .... the things that could otherwise be tossed aside and forgotten.
She holds her child with such a loving gaze. She whispers for me to do the same, to not be frustrated by what I have to care for, but to feel gifted by what I am allowed to care for.
She is a statue, an inexpensive, wooden item purchased many years ago at a forgotten place. She's collected dust, been cracked and broken. She could have been thrown out long ago, as I've done with many things in my life that have felt worthless.
I'm glad I'm learning not to toss things so easily.
With attention, I see her as she's always been. A wooden figurine in need of repair, and a radiant Kuan Yin, an Avalokiteshvara.
She didn't change.
I just awakened to who she already was.
May you be healthy, safe, and already broken.
with gratitude for your presence,
Lisa Renee