Cracked and Beautiful
11/24/12
I’ve
always felt odd, out of place and different because of the experiences in my
life that have molded me, for better and for worse, into the broken person I am
today. I’ve done a lot of work on myself
over the past decade, hoping to piece back together all the broken places and
heal.
Healing
is all about perspective and from my perspective, I wanted beautiful clear
skies and lush wide open green fields, as far as the eye could see. I saw healing that way, as perfection,
without flaw or blemish anywhere. There
weren’t any burnt hillsides and violent thunderstorms in my picture of
self-perfection.
So, I
remain broken. And one day, I heard a
woman tell of a potter that deliberately created clay pots with his finger prints
all over them and with the ceramic glaze cracked throughout, and people love
his pots. He is simply unable to keep up
with their demand and he doesn’t even try.
He insists on doing it the same way he always has; not hiring other’s to
help. He doesn’t care about money or
fame; he’s simply doing what he loves to do.
Making broken pots!
One
day, the potter was working on a piece, taking his time, and lovingly allowing
it to become its unique self as it began to form beneath the pressure of his
hands. It was a beautiful pot that took
him nearly a day to form and glaze. He
placed it in the furnace and when it was done, he carefully removed it with a
pair of tongs, and as he was about to set it on a stand to cool, it suddenly
dropped to the ground and shattered.
The
potter picked up the pieces and carefully glued them together, using liquid
gold to fill in the cracks. This same
cracked pot became the most prized of all his creation. Everyone wanted it but he refused to sell it
because he said the cracks were what made this pot the most beautiful of
all. He loved this cracked pot more, now
that it was broken and pieced back together, than he did when it was whole.
And
here I stand, broken but pieced together and that’s ok, because I know that I
will be loved not for what I was meant to be, but for who I am. I guess that’s healing.
tiki
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