Kintsugi is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery pieces, returning vessels to their intended purpose. I lead a creative inquiry group, Ono Creative Society, where I facilitated this Kintsugi process. We began by glueing pieces of a broken dish or cup back together. Then, we treated the seams with an epoxy mixed with powdered mica to give a new beauty to the already existing vessels. Some artists had broken plates, dishes, or even china that had personal significance that they didn’t want to discard because it was broken. This is such a beautiful way to mend and repair a piece, even accentuating the fracture lines - the imperfections - perhaps making it even more beautiful that the original form.
The origin of the word breaks down from kin meaning “gold”, and tsugi meaning “patch”.
The cup above and these lakefront images are both from being in Lake Tahoe in mid-October. When I see something beautiful, something that moves me, I immediately notice a desire to participate with it. When I laid eyes on Lake Tahoe, after gasping at its beauty, I immediately noticed some inward space in me that wanted to be immersed in it; I imagined myself at its center, completely enveloped by the sharp blue; even as icy as I imagined it, it felt so attractive and inviting.
I was there to complete a Somatic Enneagram training, where we spent a week of 12-hour training days at the lakefront, learning how to resource our own inner healing and how to be with those who are also seeking that kind of repair.
So, yep, you guessed it! I jumped in 50 degree Lake Tahoe. Twice. Once, with my new friend, Craig. And the second time, with my long time dear friend, Sharilyn.
While there, someone’s mug fell on the floor and broke in three places. I went and collected the pieces, thinking, this needs a Kintsugi application.
It was the right project for me upon my return, as it became a reflective process. As I absorbed all I had taken in, and noticed the process of repair that was happening in this cup, a couple things landed deeply.
The work of healing and repair, both my own, and witnessing and being with others in theirs, is profoundly important and beautiful. The pieces are all there already. I don’t need to go out and collect and gather. I can plunge into the deep and the deep will hold me. I can stay as long as I want, I can flit in and out. I can submerge, take a deep dive, or stay at the surface. The pieces of the cup are already there. I’m curating how the pieces might be returned, how they can integrate back into being in a new way. In inhabiting these experiences, I didn’t need to achieve anything. The only thing being extended to me was invitation: the Invitation to repair, the invitation to receive what was already there.