Kintsugi is a Zen Buddhist approach to ceramic repair. It symbolises a reconciliation of accidents with floors and accidents of time, reinforcing underlying themes in Zen. Zen derives from the Sanskrit word dhyana, meaning “meditation.” Kintsugi has some remarkable parallels with healing, especially when it comes to taking the time necessary to repair and not rushing the process to a hasty conclusion. It incorporates the idea that pots, cups and bowls that have been damaged shouldn’t be thrown away, neglected or discarded. Instead of tossing damaged items out with the garbage, they are lovingly and respectfully repaired in a way that surpasses their previous form.
The language of Kintsugi tells a story of its own
The word Kin Tsugi is made up of Kin, which means golden, and Tsugi, which means Joinery. So, it literally means to join with gold. The broken pieces are carefully assembled, glued back together, and inflected with the most expensive gold powder without trying to disguise or mask the damage beneath the scar. Instead, the point is to render the fault lines and repaired cracks as a thing of strength and beauty. This approach emphasises that breaks have their own meaning; a meaning worth honouring. After all, wounds and scars inform (not define) who we are. That’s a conscious choice to be with the reality of ‘what is’. The other way is to hide our vulnerabilities and pretend they don’t exist or have an impact.
Embracing your vulnerabilities allows you to be known and accepted for who you are and who you aren’t.
Our vulnerabilities are qualities to be leveraged, not hidden. Owning your vulnerability enables you to leverage its power, which is an incredibly freeing experience.
Ashkan Tashvir
The man responsible for the tradition of Kintsugi is Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, a Showgun with little interest in politics but a huge love of art and culture. He sent his favourite broken bowl back to China, where it originated from, to be repaired. Still, he was disappointed by the result, as metal staples were used to hold it together. Yoshimitsu couldn’t replace it with another bowl as that style no longer existed. Replacing it would not have been the same either, as this particular bowl had sentimental value, and he had a history with it. Yoshimitsu set his craftsman the task of repairing the bowl. Instead of disguising the damage, they turned the scars into art and beauty, and Kinstugi was born.
Taking pleasure in the imperfect
Kintsugi belongs to the Zen principles of Wabi Sabi, which honours and cherishes what is aged, rustic, understated and simple. It encourages respect for that which is damaged and scarred by time and by life. Wabi Sabi is the philosophy of embracing vulnerability, transience and imperfection. What is more vulnerable and imperfect than a human being? Life is ephemeral, and so is beauty.
There is beauty in your scars.
We all feel broken at times. We all deal with what life throws at us, and sometimes what life throws our way breaks us. It breaks our hearts, our bodies, and sometimes even our spirit. We need time to heal and to gain perspective.
I know people tell you that if you fall off the metaphorical horse, the best thing to do is get straight back on it. I just don’t think that is necessarily true or the best thing to do for you or those around you. Doing so ignores both the aspects of healing and timing. The Ancient Greeks upheld the virtue of Andreia, which among other things, is doing the right thing at the right time and for the right reason. This speaks to alignment and intention; you must be consciously aware to do so.
The value of time
I understand we have gotten used to having the world at our fingertips, and we are instantly gratified at almost every turn. Who waits for anything anymore?
We ignore seasons, and we ignore time, often to our detriment. It’s an everything, anytime, every time, all the time kind of culture. But faster isn’t always better. In fact, it can be downright harmful and create collateral damage in the process.
The right thing, at the right time and for the right reason MATTERS! The trick is to care enough for it to matter. What you care about most determines what you do…
My little accident
When my son was six months old, a car rolled over my shins and dragged me to the middle of the road. Long story short, a hairline fracture resulted and a cast was placed on the lower part of one of my legs, and I was given crutches to get around. The quickest way to heal was to leave the cast on, but I could not navigate crutches with a baby for whom I was responsible. After two days, I went to the store room, got a hacksaw blade and removed the cast. It takes six to eight weeks for a fracture to heal. Consequently it took over a year to heal properly and I couldn’t run for some time after that. I’d probably make the same choice again, given the circumstances, and it is exactly why you cannot rush healing or act hastily and expect the same result.
Parallels
Back to Kintsugi and the parallels with human healing. Kintsugi is a process that takes a lot of work. It requires considerable care, attention, and, most importantly, time. There is no rushing anything. The repair takes as long as it takes. If you try to rush it, you will either be dissatisfied with the result or prolong the process because rushing it creates the need to double back and make good on your hastiness.
It’s a process
The process looks something like this. Assemble the broken pieces with a basic rule of thumb; the more breaks there are, the longer this will take. Kintsugi is a labour of love. That’s clear. Once you assemble the pieces and make the glue Urushi (Japanese lacquer), the ceramic must be placed inside a Muro (a cardboard box to help control the humidity) for seven days.
And so, the waiting begins.
After seven days, if the glue has shrunk too much, you will need to apply more and wait a further seven days. Once the glue has appropriately been set in the Muro, the bond continues to harden and gain strength over time. Next you file and sand away the excess glue rendering the surface smooth. If you apply too much glue, you will be sanding for some time. If there is a parallel in human healing, the more you bury yourself in your poison of choice, be it alcohol, TV, food or work (insert your version here), the longer it will take to bring you back to yourself.
But what of ‘missing’ pieces
Next, you need to apply putty to the areas that have missing pieces. Sometimes in Kintsugi, the artisan will add in a crystal, but mostly it’s just putty that makes whole, the chipped piece. A friend of mine would talk about putting the pieces back differently, but what if the piece is lost or no longer exists?
Then what?
Surrender and BE with
How do we repair and heal under those circumstances? We are not pottery, and if our beloved leaves or dies or we are made redundant, we can’t add putty or even a crystal. All we have is time and ‘being with’ our circumstances, whatsoever they are, without resisting or making them wrong as the circumstances are what they are. All we can do is surrender. Surrender to what is and bring forgiveness which is restorative in itself.
Story, meaning and honouring the journey
Once the artisan is satisfied with the repair, it is time to paint the scars with black Urushi (lacquer) and dust on the powdered gold. Gold was used because it is a precious metal, a metal that comes from the stars, no less and the province of Kings.
Talk about transformation and elevating something to a higher plane…
After three more days in the Muro, the repair is complete. The scars are now beautiful, elevated to art, more robust than before, and inseparable from the ceramic. Again, the parallels between human pain and healing are striking. Your wounds are part of who you are. They can inform your choices but do not have to define or detract from you. Your scars and wounds are part of your story and have meaning. They deserve to be honoured and respected.
