Kintsugi is a Japanese tradition that involves repairing broken pottery by mending the pieces together with a lacquer made of gold, silver, or platinum. The repair lines are highlighted with
a precious metal to reflect the beauty in the object’s history and imperfection. Kinstugi is meant to serve as a metaphor for the richness that can grow from the dark times in our lives.
Whether we have suffered from illness, grief, injury, divorce, or financial loss, we always have the opportunity to shape our perspective on the situation. When we allow ourselves to embrace what we’ve gained through the difficult circumstances, we have the ability to ease our suffering from the loss. By no means does this imply that we should avoid experiencing the difficult emotions, but rather, that we have the capacity to hold the feelings that accompany loss while also welcoming the blessings we gain.
Looking through the lens of Kintsugi helped me to change my relationship with grief that I’ve carried for over 20 years. In 2002, my fiancé died in a boat accident. We were young, newly engaged, and full of dreams for our future. The best way to describe my experience with his death is that it nearly broke all of me. The grief was all-encompassing. My heart, my body, and my mind ached from my despair. In contrast to the person others knew to be incredibly health conscious and risk averse, I began smoking cigarettes and riding a motorcycle at reckless speeds without a helmet. Looking back on this chapter, I know without a doubt that a divine force was keeping me alive.
Over the next few years following his death, I attempted to heal and move forward by relocating to a new city, starting a business, and marrying. But with every step I took, I carried the grief like a heavy weight in a backpack that came with me everywhere I went. It became fused with my identity. I felt as though people couldn’t possibly really know me unless they knew
this part of my history. The more time that passed and the more pressure I perceived from others that I should be “over” the grief, the more protective I became of the pain. It became an entity of its own that I held tightly and privately. As if the grief wasn’t difficult enough, I felt shame that I was failing at the healing process.
Until a few months ago, I had resigned to the idea that I would always feel this intense sadness. Last fall, I began a more consistent meditation practice. In the stillness of
meditation, I was able to observe my thoughts and feelings without getting swept away by them. Finally, I was able to see that my attachment to the pain was actually separate from the sadness of losing my fiancé. I was attached to the pain and suffering because it felt like a lifeline to him. With this new understanding, I saw that I had a choice in detaching from the
pain while still honoring the love and memories that I will forever cherish. I also gained an understanding that this loss was actually a gift for me that has helped me to become who I am today. My broken pieces have been mended with empathy, compassion, strength, and resilience. Most importantly to me, I have gained my deep sense of spirituality that continues to grow and evolve. I have come to understand that the sadness isn’t something that has to be resolved for me to be complete, whole, and healed. I can hold the sadness when it comes and take comfort that I don’t have to do it alone. I can call on my spirituality, family, and friends to help me hold the grief when it will, inevitably, visit again. I no longer view it as something that is wrong with me that needs to be fixed. It is simply a part of me that comes and goes and that has given me some of my best gifts.
As a physical therapist and health coach, I work with people who struggle with injuries and chronic pain. I’ve learned that a great deal of people’s suffering lies in the past or the future:
worrying that the pain will get worse
fearing they won’t be able to do the things they enjoy in the future
grieving the loss of what they were able to do before the pain
mourning the person they viewed themselves as pre-injury
carrying trauma from the past (sexual abuse, physical abuse, grief, etc) that manifests as chronic pain
By learning to be in the present moment and being curious about the sensations they feel in that moment, many people report that the actual pain is not as bad as they had been perceiving it to be. They are able to notice how their thoughts, emotions, and fears about the pain have been contributing to their suffering as much or more than the physical sensations of pain.
One client was able to see how his back pain flare-up correspond to his spouse's mood swings. He has learned to get curious about what his body is trying to communicate to him when he has a flare-up. Instead of getting caught up in the endless questioning of what he did to aggravate his back, he now sees the pain as another sensation that responds to his environment. While he would undoubtedly be thrilled to never have the pain again, he has been able reframe the pain from being a threat that needs to resolved to, instead, being a way that his body communicates to him about his level of stress. From this shift in perspective, he is able to engage more fully in activities without the constant fear that he will make his pain worse.
At some point in our lives, we will all experience emotional and physical pain. While we cannot always make it go away, we can change our relationship with it. This process will likely be different for each person, based on personality, circumstances, and support. By finding acceptance in what is, we can stop resisting the things we cannot change. Then we may even be able to see glimpses of the beauty that has grown from the brokenness.
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