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Prompt- Kintsugi
Jul. 17th, 2022 02:16 pmI celebrate my imperfections. Hello, I'm Maria, I'm human, and through my decades, just about everything I thought was true has been cracked apart and broken open.
I don't know which way is up or if the curves on my sides were part of the original design, but hey, as long as I can hold liquid I'm still useful, right?
Maybe that's the key. Maybe I was useful before, but simply utilitarian and forgettable, like any other bowl mass-produced on a factory line. I could work, but I had nothing original to offer.
If I have learned anything in 44 years, it's how amazing it is that Fate always finds enough pieces left of me to remake my vessel. Somehow it's never over, at least not yet. No matter how many times I fall and, believe me, the shattering can be stunning. You'd be amazed how many millions of pieces a girl like me can become. One thing I can say for myself is my break-ups are epic, Baby, and you don't want to be barefoot if I get dropped! Plenty of times when I've felt "Can I breathe?" "How can my heart still beat with you gone?" "Who am I without this job or this dream?" My life has fallen into so many pieces that I can almost hear Fate muttering at times, "Seriously, I'm not sure if this one can be restored. We can give it a try, but don't expect miracles."
Most of the miracles in my life are the slow kind, the kind that seem miraculous only when looking back. In the moment, I was just rolling down the hills, carting as much water as I could hold, troubles tossing me from side to side until there was only a trickle to throw on each problematic fire, and then it's run back to the river again, and again, and again, and again because what is left to do? I can't give up. No matter how little water I can hold, I will give my all, and splash, and splash, and splash until each of my kids or my former students or my parents can breathe again. It's only after the smoke clears that you see the damage and, does it matter, does it really freaking matter after all? Ok, another crack, another chip, another imperfection, but Fate, we'll deal with that later. Sometimes existing is enough. If I can hold even one drip, it's enough for me.
The longer I live, more of my golden lines have names. The breaking apart from J.R., was mended only to be shattered by M. R. pounded more cracks into my facade. And somehow, my T., came into my life, and saw something worth saving. He had the patience and gold to spare, to build up my sides with enough gold that I am smooth again. We do not lose the ones we loved, only become stronger, the gold of Fate reminding us of all the things that are not love and all the ways we can, yet again, pour passion, compassion, and caring into life, if we are strong enough to try again.
I haven't always wanted to try again. I don't know how many times my pieces have crackled and hissed, causing a cloudy, angry mess in the pathway of others, writhing in the bitterness that I just don't feel like getting up this time, damn it! I don't. I am 100% done. Throw me into the dump! Love and success and usefulness are for those vessels who somehow get this right! I'm so tired of trying to hustle together all my stupid pieces. Maybe this bowl of me wasn't meant to be after all. I have nothing to offer, I'm done!
Those restless days, weeks, months of being crackly, angry, sharp shards of brokenness never did anybody any good. I guess sometimes I needed it though, to see that oh yeah, I cannot do this alone. I can't. Avoiding the pain and heat of healing never made me whole. And the longer I fumed, the smaller my pieces became. The longer I tarry in bitterness, the more gold is needed and the more sessions I will have on Fate's work bench, as She tries to see if there is anything left to work with. That's me, Baby, Fate's little miracle. Takes a fall and still breathes at all? I'm surprised I'm not a zombie bowl right now, dead bowl rolling, for all the stitching and the mending I've needed.
I've come to see that anyone who presents as perfect into their 40's either never took a chance or is flat out lying. Come on, I'll show you my imperfections so you too can be brave enough to step into the light. Is that a glint I see on your side? Oh no, I'm not criticizing. In my youth, I thought the goal was to remain unbroken. I sat on my shelf of uselessness, looking down on all those careless bowls who fumbled, shattered, and failed.
But now, now tell me how you got so strong. When you shine in the sun, I don't see the mistakes that shattered you and the times you trusted careless hands that slipped, fumbled and dropped you. No, I see you shine, and I smile at the beauty you present. You're a bowl with character! You surrendered to Fate's painful, healing touch, and now I am honored, truly honored, to get the chance to stack and nestle into one like you. Together we can put out any problem fire! And honestly, even if we get dropped, those men better watch their feet because seriously, I'm like 90% gold by now and I WILL hurt your toes, even if you're wearing boots. Remember, it's a joy to use me, but I'm strong now so you better not beat against me with your ceramic sides and unchipped edges. If someone breaks, it's no longer going to be me, Baby.
I can hold any liquid: blood, sweat, or tears. The waters of time can no longer erode much of me. I'm gold, I'm here, I'm strong, and I'd love to quench any problem fire. I'm also very useful for holding pieces, if you need to throw yourself in here. Let me carry you to Fate. I promise, the healing is worth the pain.
I don't know which way is up or if the curves on my sides were part of the original design, but hey, as long as I can hold liquid I'm still useful, right?
Maybe that's the key. Maybe I was useful before, but simply utilitarian and forgettable, like any other bowl mass-produced on a factory line. I could work, but I had nothing original to offer.
If I have learned anything in 44 years, it's how amazing it is that Fate always finds enough pieces left of me to remake my vessel. Somehow it's never over, at least not yet. No matter how many times I fall and, believe me, the shattering can be stunning. You'd be amazed how many millions of pieces a girl like me can become. One thing I can say for myself is my break-ups are epic, Baby, and you don't want to be barefoot if I get dropped! Plenty of times when I've felt "Can I breathe?" "How can my heart still beat with you gone?" "Who am I without this job or this dream?" My life has fallen into so many pieces that I can almost hear Fate muttering at times, "Seriously, I'm not sure if this one can be restored. We can give it a try, but don't expect miracles."
Most of the miracles in my life are the slow kind, the kind that seem miraculous only when looking back. In the moment, I was just rolling down the hills, carting as much water as I could hold, troubles tossing me from side to side until there was only a trickle to throw on each problematic fire, and then it's run back to the river again, and again, and again, and again because what is left to do? I can't give up. No matter how little water I can hold, I will give my all, and splash, and splash, and splash until each of my kids or my former students or my parents can breathe again. It's only after the smoke clears that you see the damage and, does it matter, does it really freaking matter after all? Ok, another crack, another chip, another imperfection, but Fate, we'll deal with that later. Sometimes existing is enough. If I can hold even one drip, it's enough for me.
The longer I live, more of my golden lines have names. The breaking apart from J.R., was mended only to be shattered by M. R. pounded more cracks into my facade. And somehow, my T., came into my life, and saw something worth saving. He had the patience and gold to spare, to build up my sides with enough gold that I am smooth again. We do not lose the ones we loved, only become stronger, the gold of Fate reminding us of all the things that are not love and all the ways we can, yet again, pour passion, compassion, and caring into life, if we are strong enough to try again.
I haven't always wanted to try again. I don't know how many times my pieces have crackled and hissed, causing a cloudy, angry mess in the pathway of others, writhing in the bitterness that I just don't feel like getting up this time, damn it! I don't. I am 100% done. Throw me into the dump! Love and success and usefulness are for those vessels who somehow get this right! I'm so tired of trying to hustle together all my stupid pieces. Maybe this bowl of me wasn't meant to be after all. I have nothing to offer, I'm done!
Those restless days, weeks, months of being crackly, angry, sharp shards of brokenness never did anybody any good. I guess sometimes I needed it though, to see that oh yeah, I cannot do this alone. I can't. Avoiding the pain and heat of healing never made me whole. And the longer I fumed, the smaller my pieces became. The longer I tarry in bitterness, the more gold is needed and the more sessions I will have on Fate's work bench, as She tries to see if there is anything left to work with. That's me, Baby, Fate's little miracle. Takes a fall and still breathes at all? I'm surprised I'm not a zombie bowl right now, dead bowl rolling, for all the stitching and the mending I've needed.
I've come to see that anyone who presents as perfect into their 40's either never took a chance or is flat out lying. Come on, I'll show you my imperfections so you too can be brave enough to step into the light. Is that a glint I see on your side? Oh no, I'm not criticizing. In my youth, I thought the goal was to remain unbroken. I sat on my shelf of uselessness, looking down on all those careless bowls who fumbled, shattered, and failed.
But now, now tell me how you got so strong. When you shine in the sun, I don't see the mistakes that shattered you and the times you trusted careless hands that slipped, fumbled and dropped you. No, I see you shine, and I smile at the beauty you present. You're a bowl with character! You surrendered to Fate's painful, healing touch, and now I am honored, truly honored, to get the chance to stack and nestle into one like you. Together we can put out any problem fire! And honestly, even if we get dropped, those men better watch their feet because seriously, I'm like 90% gold by now and I WILL hurt your toes, even if you're wearing boots. Remember, it's a joy to use me, but I'm strong now so you better not beat against me with your ceramic sides and unchipped edges. If someone breaks, it's no longer going to be me, Baby.
I can hold any liquid: blood, sweat, or tears. The waters of time can no longer erode much of me. I'm gold, I'm here, I'm strong, and I'd love to quench any problem fire. I'm also very useful for holding pieces, if you need to throw yourself in here. Let me carry you to Fate. I promise, the healing is worth the pain.
