Sticks and stones may break your bones and words can really hurt you. They can break you into a million little pieces, more than sticks and stones ever will.
The ones who broke you with their words – in their voices, in their pens, behind your back, to your face, collectively, separately, in social circles you were not invited to, in their attitudes, in their tones, in their actions, I like to think they were misguided.
They tried to break you. To imprison you. They tried to push you out by creating a world adverse to you. But you are beautiful in your unique differences. You are a part of this greater whole. A piece of the beautiful mosaic and you have immense potential. I see that in you. I see you.
Even in your brokenness, even in your differences, even though you made mistakes along the way, even if nobody believes in you, you are beautiful. You are rare and you are irreplaceable.
When you are able, see your worth. You may feel alone. But this is for a moment.
There is a community emerging in the distance. They may be dispersed in a world that is adverse. But they are there.
Through discernment, through observation and through graduated levels of trust, you will know who they are.
You are Rare
I am in awe of a Japanese and Asian practice. When a bowl breaks, one may repair that bowl by picking up the broken pieces, carefully glueing them back together piece-by-piece with powdered gold. The process is a ritual of love. A philosophy that there is immense value in that imperfect bowl. When the process is complete, the bowl is whole. It may look different but it is rare. It is beautiful in its imperfections.
Some may have seen the broken bowl as unusable. “Why repair something that is broken? Just get a new one. It is replaceable,” they say.
You are Not Replaceable
I see the beauty in the mended bowl. Just like it, you have potential. You may not look the same as before. You may have what others believe to be imperfections. To me, they are tattoos on your soul that infuse rare seeds of wisdom obtained through your pain.
They tried to hurt you with words. To break you into pieces. Break you with their voices and in their pens, collectively, separately, behind your back or to your face, in the many facets of society.
They tried to say you were worthless because of your colour, or because of where you were born on the planet, or because you speak a language or have an accent they do not understand or favour, or because of your long misunderstood lineage and traditions in the land, or because of the many other reasons. But I see that this era is ending.
Not far in the distance, in your horizon, a group of restorers are emerging. Many who were once broken too. They are rare. Irreplaceable. Giving because it was given to them. Ready to pick up your pieces and to mend with words of gold.
[Post Credits: inspired from a social media post I saw on Japanese Kintsugi.]