Our first date was at the National History Museum in Salt Lake City, Utah. Chauncey and I had been communicating for a couple of weeks prior to meeting up face to face that cold, bright, January afternoon. We had an immediate connection. Definitely a friendship. We shared a jovial, funny energy as we learned about each other's lives meandering through the different exhibits of the museum.
One of the exhibits was a children’s game, a three-dimension puzzle, of sorts. The object was to correctly repair a “broken” pottery bowl around a large, rounded, magnetic surface. As we pieced the puzzle together learning about this display, our small talk deepened into something more. We were both impressed with the story behind the presentation. Together we learned the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dust mixed with powered gold, silver, or platinum was called “Kintsugi.” But, the profound philosophy behind this art was a token of wisdom that, little did I know at that time, would be a recurring theme in our relationship.
We both were touched, as we read about how the Japanese treat breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise, be ashamed of, or hide. The object, in the end, actually was viewed to have higher value. It was deeper, more rich. To me, the cracks represented love, in its truest form. Acceptance symbolized.
I have oftentimes pointed to this experience in discussions with my best friend, Chauncey. As I have stumbled, fallen and felt completely broken, he has reminded me. “It’s like the gold,” he whispers in my ear, as my tears fall on his chest and he holds me so gently in his strong arms.
Two weeks ago, we were jogging with little Charlotte. The route we took to the park was the most direct. I had pounded that pavement many times before, and the path was very familiar to me. During this morning routine, we fought. It was unpleasant, full of emotion, and hard. Because of our love for one another, and our commitment to ourselves, we worked through that argument to resolution.
However, my heart ached as the memory of what occurred on that route just the day before ghosted into my mind. As I drifted in and out of these emotions, I observed the memory of what we learned about Kintsugi. “I can apply that to this broken road, this shattered memory,” I thought.
When he and I talked next, I asked my dear boyfriend if he would join me, once again, on that same route. But, this time with the intention of creating a new memory, one that could repair the damage we shared previously. He agreed. We walked. We talked. We forged a crack, broken by pride and insecurities.
Experiences like these often bring token gifts of strength and resilience, which is exactly what I accepted and sought after. And, I can see that it came from inside, and how I feel about myself. My relationship with myself was reflected in this bittersweet experience. My love for this man grows each day. The value of our relationship branches out from the deep root that is this: Breakage and repair are a part of us. They are part of our rich history together. Rather than disguise it, be ashamed of mistakes, or ignore them, Chauncey and I accept our defects as part of ourselves, and part of our relationship.
And, together we mend it.
