I’ve heard the phrase ‘the world’s going to hell in a handcart’ a few times recently. I understand why – there are things that worry many of us: the climate catastrophe, wars, displacement, all manner of worrying tendencies in our national debate such as polarisation, populism and post truth. In the face of things we can do nothing about we can feel powerless, despondent and living with grumbling worry, fuelled by being bombarded by incessant bad news in our media.
Negativity and pessimism tends to stick to itself like velcro. How can we find ways to counter this slip down the hill to pit of despair? We may see examples of folk we know who are struggling with despondency that can sometimes come with ageing…’Things aren’t what they used to be!’ Or a particular favourite of a tricky boss I had when I was 27, when I came up with a new idea: ‘We tried that back in 1982 and it didn’t work then!’
I have recently become interested in the Japanese art of Kintsugi, an art that developed from the ancient tea culture. The story goes that a tea master was preparing tea for the war lord. The assistant dropped an invaluable piece of tea-ware which instantly broke into five pieces. The war lord raised a hand to punish the boy but the key tea master Hosokawa swiftly intervened, sang a poem and took responsibility for what the young servant had done, atoning for him. He then took the five pieces and reconnected them using the urushi gold lacquer technique. Kin means gold and tsugi means reconnect.
In taking time to reconnect the pieces, the warlord was moved by the act of compassion. And the beauty of what was created was enhanced. The story became famous and the meaning was profound. The use of Kintsugi was extended – used in peacemaking between warring factions, the edges of the broken pieces matching the shapes of the geographic borders of the two countries, and gold being like a river of gold flowing between them.
One fascinating thing about kintsugi is the process. It takes time. The broken pieces are not just stuck together. They are held in the hand and contemplated first. The act of mending something is ordinary: it takes time to wait for something to be created. Doing ordinary things and seeing what happens and what emerges takes time and space and a quality – reverence. When that servant boy broke the invaluable piece he would have felt humiliation, shame, disappointment and hurt, but what came next was what mattered. The broken pieces were collected from the floor where they were shattered. And made into something new, becoming more beautiful than before – collage bound together by gold.
When we feel accumulated disappointments and losses it can seem as though we are filled to the brim with disenchantment and dismay. Our joy can be gobbled up by it. It is therefore harder and also a more pressing conscious imperative for us to counter this, to use our imaginations to be re-enchanted by the world. We need to wait and ponder, to find what moves us, what enchants us. To stay faithful to the creative process and look for beauty, the sunlight in the bright field, evidence of great love, the kinship we feel with others who may be radically different from us and let the new or surprising moment break into our fissures and our woundedness and move us.
It amazes me that the pot was mended with gold – gold! Gold is strong, luminous, dense, bright, noble, resists corrosion, is indestructible. To choose something so precious for a broken pot is counter-cultural, subversive! Such extravagance in creativity might convince us of a truth of the magnificence of every moment. Can we seek out the small miracles and revel in them, burnishing our gold connections, however seemingly insignificant or subtle? What helps us feel the tap on the shoulder to slow down and notice them?
Kintsugi starts with brokenness. Shame says we should cover our weaknesses and hide them, far away from visibility. Instead, can we learn to gather them up and ponder them? If our wobbly or jagged bits are seen and acknowledged, maybe something new or unexpected can happen? Let’s not be so quick to cover those things that we’ve decided aren’t so good. Let’s go to the fissures and use them. Not applying veneer to cover up the fissures in the name of goodness or correctness. Let’s develop a nose for that deception. Let our failures be seen and be glorious. As Leonard Cohen says, ‘that is what lets the light in.’