Brokenness to a Process of Wholeness
Kintsugi is a centuries old Japanese art of repairing broken vessels, specifically pottery with a tree sap lacquer. The repair is dusted with “gold, silver, or platinum.” Once completed the cracks gleam and carry an appearance of wholeness or at the very least a re-formed object with a totally new look. The repair process is time-consuming, but the piece of pottery is even more beautiful and unique than originally conceived. An initially unrealized piece of art is envisioned making it “part of the history of the object.”
At the height of my professional dance career I sustained an injury, diagnosed as stress fractures (tiny breaks on my shins). I had no idea of the profound process of growth that I would obtain from the experience. Except for the initial shock, there was no guarantee recovery would occur at the level to which I could dance professionally again. The process of healing turned out to be somewhat obscure, a sort of waiting in immobility. The medical recommendation was to rest, no weight-bearing physical activity for eight weeks and then “we’ll see.” I felt as though I had been cast into an abyss without much hope.
Left to my own resources and imagination I intuited that laying my hands on my shins, listening to classical music, and a daily routine of Contrology would be my protocol to facilitate the healing process. The welts on my shins were painful to look at and to touch and my heart was broken, as well. The hands were an alternative to ice compresses on my legs which were too uncomfortable. The workout I had learned earlier to strengthen my core did not require standing. The classical music provided a soothing balm that enabled the hours of the day to pass seamlessly.
This routine became my daily prayer. Was I hopeful? I don’t know. I was too broken at the time to analyze grandiose schemes. Through the physical pain, frayed emotions, and economic instability I was provided the opportunity for deeper healing, something I didn’t know then but acknowledge now. My life was not my own, but trusting in anything other than the divine was about all I could hold onto. I had faith that beset with enormous voids: inability to use my physical instrument to serve my profession, loss of community, and loss of livelihood—all hallmarks for success in society—I had a knowing that something much greater and more substantive would fill my body, soul, and heart with what was needed to return to wholeness.
Like a string player discovering that her violin had been shattered into pieces; my physical body, the instrument through which I communicated was broken. Even if there were books on healing this level of brokenness, I probably couldn’t have engaged in the concentrated study. The deep despair to which I descended was ominous and bleak often holding me for hours and days at a time. Besides eating healthy, I was literally being sustained by the protocol that I intuitively received. There were no ‘aha’ moments! It was a slow, not easily recognizable recovery. It was a season of change resting in each moment, a state with which I was unfamiliar at the time, but with my present knowledge would refer to as a holding period, liminal space.
Returning to the doctor at the appointed time, it was difficult to read his initial response. As we both stared at the x-rays, an odd atmosphere penetrated the room—it was a deep stillness that seemed to last forever. I think we were both stunned as it was clear considerable change had taken place during my weeks of inactivity. The two sets of x-rays side-by-side reflected one with breaks on the shins and the other with none. I became jubilant, but the doctor remained subdued, reserved, and seemed confused, especially when I explained to him what I had been doing. He acknowledged that my legs had healed and I was free to return to dance, but as an afterthought he wanted to see me again in six weeks—perhaps to allay his doubts—after I had returned to my regular dancing schedule.
On the surface and based on the medical assessment I was whole, but in truth that was only the beginning of a very long healing on the emotional level. As well as struggling with re-building physical strength, learning repertoire, and re-gaining financial stability there was much to overcome. Even more importantly was a deeper understanding of the implications and dynamics of living within and from a human-divine organism, especially when that organism was the tool for earning a living.
In all my years of dancing I had never been side-lined for so long, with nothing to do, but be and engage in an apparently unorthodox method of healing. Those who saw me after my period of rest marveled at how well I looked and danced. Given the severity of my injury (a total of 13 stress unevenly distributed on both legs), it was clear that no one expected to see me walk again, much less dance. The bones in my shins were fractured and any ongoing stress on my legs would have had serious consequences, yet by some grace I was back in the studio.
There are many things that can be gleamed from this experience, but probably the most important is this: while javelins of hatred were being thrown at me, my body absorbed them in piercing my shins. In a nonviolent way my body absorbed the shock to the point that I could no longer dance and had to be temporarily removed from the situation. I had nothing else to do but rely on the healing power of God. The lessons continue to roll out to this day that resonate with my “calling” in this space in time.
What’s essential to remember is that this is just one example—a personal story— of the many ways through which we grasp truth and sublime messages. We start to recognize that there is so much more to our lives and our collective consciousness when we are able to tap into the ultimate source. This is not a matter of our intellectual understanding, but a measure of our greatest potential for freedom. When we manage to live fully and outside appearances seem defiant against our best efforts it is then that we are surrounded by mystery holding us up in the light.
Decades later, as the result of lessons learned from my injury and recovery, the contemplative life I’ve established includes quiet, intentional listening, and enormous amounts of self-care making passages like following particularly significant:
Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is, in the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace. —Frederick Buechner
As the result of the injury a key got implanted in me and the multiple levels of healing (emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual) that infused my body are still unfolding. For sure more than anything else, the understanding of myself and my relationship to the greater universe had been completely transformed.
Attempting to honor the process of staying attuned to the One, I’m continually drawn into a process of evolving, moving toward wholeness, even though oftentimes outward appearances skew the truth. My frame of reference and understanding of healing grew out of sustaining an injury, rooted in hatred and lack of respect, experiences that occasionally creep into daily life. But, no longer do I harbor a reactionary response of getting even or retaliation because the healing I received was a gift and I’m foolish enough to believe that my once fractured shins are filled with gold.
For me, this does not need to be proven, just accepted!