Kintsukuroi - a Japanese word that I stumbled upon a while ago. A victim to my heedless assumption that the word lacked purpose. It was never the words, solely, that inspired me, but the unspoken inspiration that the word shrouded. And so, the word lay dormant in the tranquil cavern of my heart for a long time. Until now, when it finally revealed its inspiring purpose.
If ever, the amorphous soul of a man were to be delineated as a tactile cup, it would never be an unblemished embodiment of perfection. It is, however, a broken cup that we all choose to bury deep. The fine crevices in it that fissures our soul; ones which disheartens us. The interstices that let the dark amalgam of depression seep in. The broken cup, our soul, an evident emblem of the pitiful past.
I always assumed that the cracks in the soul were everlasting; irremovable stains that inclement circumstances engraves on us. I was right; yet all this time, I buttressed a wrong perception. There always existed another façade to the truth itself. A facet which unveiled itself like the 'silver lining' we all search for in the midst of tribulations. A facet which startled me with the truth that I was wrong about imperfections in its entirety.
The facet's epiphenomenal revelation - I met a soul who had beautified herself. The one who had learned to fill the crevices with beautiful molten gold, embracing every scar as a decoration, and wearing every gash as an embellishment. One who had learned to be beautiful while being imperfect. A pragmatic exemplar of Kintsukuroi - being beautifully broken.
And so I realized, the imperfections are the ones which make us beautiful. The scars of cruel time that blesses us with empty spaces, just so we could cleave the broken pieces of our brittle soul with invigorating gleam of hope.
The dear imperfections which ceaselessly remind us, "we all are broken, yet beautiful."
Copyright (c) 2016 Shine Jayakumar
[Photo Credit: expatsincebirth,com]
If ever, the amorphous soul of a man were to be delineated as a tactile cup, it would never be an unblemished embodiment of perfection. It is, however, a broken cup that we all choose to bury deep. The fine crevices in it that fissures our soul; ones which disheartens us. The interstices that let the dark amalgam of depression seep in. The broken cup, our soul, an evident emblem of the pitiful past.
I always assumed that the cracks in the soul were everlasting; irremovable stains that inclement circumstances engraves on us. I was right; yet all this time, I buttressed a wrong perception. There always existed another façade to the truth itself. A facet which unveiled itself like the 'silver lining' we all search for in the midst of tribulations. A facet which startled me with the truth that I was wrong about imperfections in its entirety.
The facet's epiphenomenal revelation - I met a soul who had beautified herself. The one who had learned to fill the crevices with beautiful molten gold, embracing every scar as a decoration, and wearing every gash as an embellishment. One who had learned to be beautiful while being imperfect. A pragmatic exemplar of Kintsukuroi - being beautifully broken.
And so I realized, the imperfections are the ones which make us beautiful. The scars of cruel time that blesses us with empty spaces, just so we could cleave the broken pieces of our brittle soul with invigorating gleam of hope.
The dear imperfections which ceaselessly remind us, "we all are broken, yet beautiful."
Copyright (c) 2016 Shine Jayakumar
