Kintsugi – the Japanese art of mending with beauty – reblog

Incredible.

fantasticmetastaticme

I have been considering
kintsugi, and how
we heal ourselves,
we who are no longer whole,
and if we can
be beautiful
and flawed
and flawed
and beautiful.

I have considered
my scars, not golden,
not joyful,
not thoughtful, but
silver pale, glistening,
secret lines,
hidden from view,
and wondering
if I can be beautiful
even though
I can never be
mended, not entirely.

I am broken,
re-made,
broken again,
mended. I am
burnt, cut,
poisoned,
damaged.
I am not
who I was,
and yet I am
still here,
beautiful
and flawed
and flawed
and beautiful.

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About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
This entry was posted in Cancer, Courage, Identity, importance of love, Life, Poetry re-blogged, Reality, Uplifting and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Kintsugi – the Japanese art of mending with beauty – reblog

  1. ladynyo says:

    This is so beautiful and profound, Nan. We are all broken by life. That we heal, mend, hurt and heal again…over and over…is the blessing of life. Actually I believe after all above, we are more than we were. Beautiful verse, Nan. And thank you. A definite thought maker this morning.

    Like

    • Nan Mykel says:

      Thanks, I agree, and kudos to its author Sarahsouthwest, aka
      fantasticmetastaticme who writes:
      “This blog is about living with (not dying of) cancer. So really, it’s about living my life as happily and hopefully as possible. If you’re looking for poems, you need to go to fmmewritespoems.wordpress.com
      fantasticmetastaticme.”
      This blog is about living with (not dying of) cancer. So really, it’s about living my life as happily and hopefully as possible. If you’re looking for poems, you need to go to fmmewritespoems.wordpress.comudos to the author sarahsouthwest, aka

      Like

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