The cracks are where your light comes through. A phrase that rolled around in my mind one morning after a dream I can now barely remember. Often, after vivid dreams I’ll open my journal in my bedside table and write it down. This time I didn’t. I sat with the phrase for a few days and thought about what it really meant to me. In my thoughtfulness and exploration, I found the words of Sufi poet, philosopher and teacher Rumi, who said: “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Ancient wisdom has a funny way of finding you, even when you’re not really looking for it.
Recently, many of my clients have been struggling with incredibly challenging and complex pieces of their trauma. Questions from these moments emerge like swans in a cursed lake:
“What does it mean to have never felt real love?”
“How do I heal from emotional wounds when I’m still wading through my anger and resentment?”
“Am I still a good person if I love my abuser?”
The answer to that last question is a resounding yes. You are worthy even in the face of complex emotional wounds. You can still love those who hurt you, even if you hate what they did. There isn’t a right or wrong answer to these feelings of hurt and brokenness, but perhaps it is an opportunity to imagine a new way forward into healing.
In these moments, I’m inspired by the Japanese art of Kintsugi. A 15th century practice meaning “to join with gold.” For over 400 years, Japanese artists put together broken piece of pottery, the edges sealed together by liquid gold. When I close my eyes, I imagine myself bonded with golden light— shimmering, warm and solid.
This practice is a reminder to me that even when things break or fall apart, there is still beauty in celebrating the flaws and imperfections of life. In this world, when something breaks, it is both a mourning and a celebration of what can become new or whole again.
For a moment, re-imagine that your scars are made of gold. Imagine letting yourself be whole again, letting light in through your perceived imperfections, your brokenness, your trauma and your pain. Let light in where others have tried to shroud you in their darkness. Allow light to enter and seal where you feel you have made mistakes or missteps. Sometimes in the process of healing ourselves, we emerge more connected and abundant than we were before.
Not every break will inspire you to let light in. Not every piece of your journey will be ready to be healed. It’s okay to take this process at your own pace. Let the spirit and slowness of Kintsugi inspire you to be more compassionate in your journey, to feel more belonging in your body, and to see a small joy in putting yourself back together.
Until next time,
Meghan