Broken Pieces by Sons of Gold - Play on Youtube
The Art of Broken Pieces and Beautiful Scars
“When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something's suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.” ― Barbara Bloom
They call this the “Art of Broken Pieces” or “Beautiful Scars”. My broken pieces are filled with gold, as well. My life is filled with beautiful scars. Like a tattered and torn quilt made up of broken pieces. Or a piece of pottery filled with gold and made into an art form like a “beautiful scar”. I’ve chosen to fill my broken pieces with gold, instead of dwelling on the shattered bits and jagged edges. I’ve pieced myself and my life together over and over again, and filled it with gold instead of letting these jagged edges slice me open and bleed me dry. It’s been hard but I believe it’s all happened for a reason, and that there is a lesson in everything. A reason I keep forging ahead when I shouldn’t otherwise, be able to.
Many cultures and religions believe in reincarnation; the rebirth of a soul in a new body. Most believe that you keep coming back until you learn the lessons you need to learn in order to move on. Until you get it right. Like a continuing cycle of birth, life, death and re-birth until the cycle is complete and you’ve managed to somehow fix all your broken pieces from within each incarnate. And, so you can move on to a better afterlife. Some believe, that the harder each life or incarnate is, the closer you are to the end; the closer you are to getting it right and moving on. If that’s the case; if reincarnation exists, and I’m somewhere in that cycle, myself then I’m definitely on my last life.
A life where I have been through more in forty-nine years and seen more grief, loss and pain than most do in ten lifetimes. A life, that has been made up of these torn and tattered pieces that make up my quilt. Or, a potted bowl that’s been shattered and pieced back together. A life made up of all of my broken pieces, failed attempts, traumatic experiences and things people don’t usually want to talk about. All of the things that make people uncomfortable knowing and seeing. But that I have had to live with and through and somehow learn to cope with and keep moving forward in the face of. Things that, strange as it sounds, I am actually grateful for having experienced. Because without these things, I wouldn’t be who I am, be where I am or know what I know. I am grateful for these broken pieces resulting from my life, the things that make my torn and tattered quilt look beautiful, despite the broken pieces. The bowl that I’ve chosen to put back together again and again, and to fill the broken pieces with gold. That I’ve chosen to do so by seeing the beauty and learning the lessons within each of these experiences, losses and pain. Where I’ve chosen beauty, over ugliness. Where I’ve chosen to be grateful instead of damaged.
I am grateful to my parents for showing me what not to do; how not to parent. For giving me enough to survive but not enough to thrive. They inadvertently gave me the survival skills that I needed to power through the next 33 years of my life, and forced me to find ways of thriving instead of just surviving. They were one of the main reasons I started writing; needing an outlet for what I was going through, a way of coping. They were also, inadvertently responsible for allowing me to see what a healthy relationship and family looked like; by showing me the polar opposite and modelling an unhealthy environment. I’m grateful for this extreme, as it led me down the path of identifying and living the extreme opposite lifestyle; of finding beauty and happiness in unsuspecting places, and being grateful for what I had, even when I didn’t have much. And, seeking out and forging healthy relationships, instead of unhealthy ones like they modelled for me. It took me some time; forty-two years and three husbands but I’m finally getting it right.
I am grateful to all three of my husbands for never being the right person for me. My first, because even though we seemed to fit when we were barely adults, we each grew in our own direction. We became completely different people with completely different values, desires and needs; that would never have fit with the other’s lives. If we had stayed together, first and foremost, I wouldn’t have my other two children, and neither of us would be living authentically. Neither of us would be happy, and at least one of us would have settled. I’m grateful for my second husband, because he forced me to be strong and fight back against tyranny and adversity. To stand up for myself and become independent. To do everything I said I wanted to do, if only to prove him wrong when he said I’d fail if I tried, and that I’d likely just never try, in the first place. And, I’m grateful to my third and final ex-husband for leaving. We were the unhappiest happily married couple I knew at the time. What we looked like from the outside was absolutely not a realistic reflection of what was going on inside our home and marriage. I am grateful that he cheated and that he left, because otherwise, I would still be there beating my head against the wall trying to make something out of nothing. I wouldn’t have experienced this time alone; the solitude and thought, and the gift of getting to know myself, dating myself and learning to love myself.
I am grateful for my children; for teaching me what unconditional love is and allowing me to both be loved by them, and return that love, in kind. For teaching me so many things, when I thought I was teaching them. And, most of all, for choosing to be such a huge part of my life even now, as adults and for being my three best friends. This is not something you see or experience every day and I am so grateful for whatever it was that my parents did; right or wrong, that I did or that my children did and allowed me to do, that forged this bond between us. However fragmented or broken our lives together seemed to be at one point or another, it appears we have somehow pieced them all together and filled them with gold, as well.
I am grateful for all of the friends that I have had; found, lost, loved, loathed, cried over or let go of. For all of the relationships in my life such as these. For all of the experiences in my life, such as these. Things that hurt, things that healed. Things that drained me and things that filled me back up, again. Things that taught me a lesson and made me a better person. Things that allowed me a new perspective and a new lease on life. Things that made me see the beauty in the broken pieces of life, and in my own broken pieces.
I am grateful for many things in my life. I am grateful for the things that brought me to where I am now. Grateful for things that others would see as negative or not tend to be grateful for; like the hurt, the pain, grief, loss, failures and all of my other broken bits. Things I have collected and pieced together to make my own, piece of art; aggrandized all of my Broken Pieces and Beautiful Scars.
