Thursday is Valentine's Day and whether you think it's a sweet holiday to show affection and lavish gifts on a loved one or an evil manipulation by card manufacturers...it can be hard to navigate with a broken heart. In fact, we all have broken hearts. Even when we're in the midst of the infatuation of a new relationship, there are places in our hearts that are broken.
Relationships can wound us deeply. I experienced two abusive relationships in my late teens and while I thought that they hadn't affected me in lasting ways (they weren't permanent relationships and it's now 30-odd years later), I've realized that there have been lasting emotional repercussions from those relationships that show up now, not only in my relationships, but in other areas as well. Close relationships that end badly - think more than just divorce and breakups - think betrayal, friendships, business relationships, family - these leave lasting wreckage that bleed out into our lives in more ways than we think.
Broken hearts don't just come from dramatic events though. Even careless words can leave permanent scars. Every time my mom takes a beautiful photo, she hears the thoughtless and rude words someone said about one of her photos years ago. Every time I get in a situation where dancing is happening, I hear the rude comment of a drunk guy on a dance floor in a bar in my 20s and I shut down. I know, in the light of day it sounds ridiculous. Why would you think that an offhand drunk comment from a stranger could wound in that way? I would find it hard to believe that you don't have similar broken places in your own heart. Well, maybe not drunk guys dancing, but wounds from both small and large things.
I'm not going to talk about how to heal that brokenness today. Let's talk about a step before the healing. You have to choose to live with your brokenness. We usually choose to shut it away in the closet. To bury it as deep in the back as possible under last year's coats, extra blankets and the clothes needing buttons sewn on. But, what if we didn't do that?
Boro
Boro is a tradition of mending the clothing that was worn by peasants, merchants or artisans in Japan from the 17th – early 19th century. it's from a traditional value of 'mottainai' translated as "too good to waste". These people couldn't afford the silk kimonos and obi of the aristocracy, which is what we think of when we think of feudal Japanese clothing. Instead they recycled scraps, recombined pieces and stitched together fragments of cloth that was too precious to throw away until the story of a family could be found in the mended and patchworked cloth that was used throughout their homes and lives. Babies were born onto clothing worn and used by generations before them. Families were wrapped in, slept in and wore the history of their people. Women mended frequently, elaborately and beautifully with sashiko stitching. Each cloth is absolutely unique.
Boro and Broken Hearts
Here are a few ways we can apply the concepts of Boro to our broken hearts.
Wear and breakage had to happen before mending took place. Mending was what created the uniquely beautiful piece of cloth. Mending was what transformed the scraps into something useful and beautiful. Mending was what made the cloth stronger than they were as individual fragments.
No matter how ragged you feel your broken places are, they can be mended and redeemed. The mending is what will turn your hurt, your wreckage, your pain and your pieces into something useful, strong and even beautiful. In Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway said, "The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places." Your broken places have the potential to become great strength.
Families used and wore these fabrics on a daily basis. They were wrapped in and surrounded by the patchwork of their lives. They were a visual reminder that broken things are not beyond usefulness. Your life is much the same. Be reminded that you are never beyond usefulness at any age, in any circumstance.
When you think about the broken areas in your life. In your heart. Consider that they're worth mending. It's worth living in the strong, beautiful, unique story a mended soul is. Living a mended life is an authentic presentation of who you are, a confirmation of the beauty in this journey that we all travel through. One that inherently involves painful things. Consider that allowing those places to be mended and a visible part of your life tapestry makes us all richer. Consider that your experience, your pain and your process may be encouragement, learning and comfort to someone else.
I would rather live an authentic, mended, useful life than a perfect, plastic pretend one.
Living with your brokenness means allowing it to be brought to the surface. Allowing it to be mended. Allowing it to be seen. Allowing it to become part of your story. Not the whole story, but a part.
Episode Artwork
The art this week is an interpretation of a boro cloth. There is both real and painted stitching that pulls the paper collage pieces together. There's hints of the gold kintsugi repair method I talked about last week as well.
I have an annual trip to the beach each New Years that functions as thinking time. A re-set at the beginning of my year. Several years ago on this trip, bird imagery kept coming up over and over. Too often to be coincidental. I was at the point in my life where some new freedoms were on the horizon. More like the promise of future freedoms, but I was in the midst of emotional muck at the time. The symbol gave me hope that there would eventually be freedom, no matter what the current situation felt like. Birds represent hope of freedom and expansion of perspective to me and I included it here because when you choose to live with your brokenness and allow it to be mended. To choose an authentic portrayal of your life, to present your full story as beautiful. Worthy. Precious...you allow the promise and hope of freedom to be borne in your life.
What if you lived with your broken heart?