Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by using urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum to mend the broken areas. This method makes no attempt to disguise the breakage. Instead, the breakage is highlighted as part of the history of the piece.

According to legend, Japanese shōgun Ashikaga Yoshimasa sent a damaged Chinese tea bowl back to China for repairs in the late 15th century. The bowl was repaired with ugly metal staples and sent back to Yoshimasa. One theory asserts that the “ugly repair” inspired Japanese craftsmen to develop a more aesthetically pleasing way to repair pottery. Another theory suggests that this “ugly repair” revealed the beauty of broken things and became inspirational and Zen-like.

I’ve learned to accept the second theory.

I’d heard of kintsugi before, but never really appreciated its symbolism until I watched Ted Lasso on Apple TV+. If you haven’t watched the show, I’ll try to minimize the “spoiler” here. When Ted first arrives at his new job as a coach in London, he writes the word, “Believe” on a piece of paper and hangs it above his office door. Sometime later, something happens to the sign and the team thinks it has been ruined. In the final episode, it is repaired using the kintsugi method and rehung by the person responsible for damaging it.

It’s a perfect full circle moment where we see the importance of redemption and holding onto the things we value. They could have easily made a new sign at any time – one that was fancier or sturdier. What mattered to the team was how the sign made them feel when they looked at it. It was basic and the message was simple, “Believe.” That belief helped cement friendships and the success of the team. It became real for them, and it seems only fitting that the sign would come to reflect the battle scars of the players, their team, and the other characters in the show.

In my life, I’ve had over fifteen surgeries with at least as many scars to commemorate them. There are infants who have had more surgical procedures in their first year of life than that and octogenarians who have yet to have their first surgery.

We never know what life will throw at us physically, emotionally, or spiritually or when it will happen.

Hiding a broken heart is much easier than hiding our physical scars. People want us to be happy and if we smile and laugh, even a little bit, they’ll accept that we’re okay. But, hiding our pain keeps us from healing.

How we handle our scars, and the broken pieces of our lives, is an individual choice.

Do we throw away what’s not perfect? Do we attempt to mask the damage with glue or hide it away? Do we repair the damage and embrace the imperfections that are now a part of life?

I was never a big fan of having scars. To me, scars showed that I wasn’t indestructible. My carefully curated armor could be pierced and if it happened once it could happen again. I saw only weakness. I have friends, however, who will proudly point out every cut, scrape, or incision on their bodies. They will tell you how and when they received their scars wearing them as badges of honor.

When I was battling breast cancer, many people told me to be proud of my scars because they meant I was a warrior and a survivor. I wanted nothing more than to be the person I was before. My scars wouldn’t let me, and I thought that was a bad thing.

It’s been fifteen years since my cancer diagnosis, and those years have brought additional physical, emotional, and spiritual trauma in my life. It hasn’t been easy to come to terms with the image I see in the mirror.

Writers and philosophers have expressed the value of embracing our imperfections and learning to accept our damaged parts. Their words have comforted me, and I hope they bring you a measure of comfort, too.

In an 1841 collection of essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson in Essay III, he states, “There is a crack in everything God has made.”

In 1860, the philosopher Benjamin Blood expanded on Emerson’s words in his book, Optimism: The Lesson of Ages. “There is a crack in everything that God has made; but through that crevice enters the light of heaven.”

In his 1929 work, A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway wrote, “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”

Leonard Cohen released the album, “the Future” in 1992. In the song “Anthem,” Cohen sings “Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

I can’t paint or tattoo gold over my scars, but thanks to the philosophy of kintsugi, I can see them in a new way. They are part of the history of my life – a history I can choose to share or keep to myself. They are proof that I am stronger than the things that have tried to harm me. They are my proof of life.

Sources for this article:

Wikipedia

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