Lately I’ve been extremely self-critical. For example, we went to the beach yesterday and as I was looking with disdain at the pictures my husband took on his phone, I said, “I think my days of no makeup are over.” I see myself in the mirror and though logically I know it is me, I don’t feel like I resemble my former self.
Several months ago, a friend came up to me and said, “You’re finally aging!” He proceeded to tell me how he and his wife had been talking about it and after all of these years of looking young, I finally look my age. How nice. I may have purchased eye cream for the first time after this conversation. Seriously.
But the more I thought about it, the more my heart changed.
When I came home from college the summer after my freshman year, I went with a friend to a new salon to get a haircut. As the stylist was cutting my hair, she asked me about what school I attended. When I told her I was home from college for the summer, she said, “Oh! I thought you were in 8th grade!” I felt so embarrassed.
When I was a senior in high school, I worked briefly as a server in a popular restaurant. A family at one of my tables struck up a conversation with me and asked, “What year are you in school?”
I unsuspectingly said, “Senior.”
They then asked, “Which high school?”
I said, “In college.”
I was not thrilled.
For much of my life I felt like I had to act more mature to compensate for my youthful appearance. This was especially true when I managed student housing soon after graduating from college. I chose to teach middle school instead of high school, partially because I did not want to be confused with one of the high school students.
Identity Crisis
The problem with hearing the same comments throughout your life is that you start to believe them and accept them as part of your identity. Even if you don’t like the characteristic, you come to believe that it is a part of who you are. And when those parts of your “identity” change, it is hard to let go and accept something new—whether you like the change or not.
As I am thinking about these changes in my own life, I am reminded of Kintsugi. It is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a lacquer that is dusted or mixed with a precious metal (gold, silver, or platinum). Instead of hiding imperfections or discarding these broken dishes, the art of Kintsugi recognizes them and beautifies them.
This is not the same as merely “accepting” things as they are.
Instead of just accepting the way things are, kintsugi makes the repair–and in turn the whole piece–a thing of beauty. The repairer could have simply chosen to use the lacquer and let the piece dry. The repair would probably have been nearly imperceptible. Instead, the addition of a precious metal illuminates the spot, adding a unique, one-of-a-kind beauty to the item.
What does this have to do with anything?
We all have imperfections. We’re human. Some of our imperfections are superficial like my aging face. Others are deeper cracks or breaks we have experienced internally. The scars of surviving. Instead of trying to super glue the pieces back together and pretend that the “imperfection” never existed (with super glue remnants stuck to our fingertips), we have an invaluable opportunity to repair ourselves into something more beautiful and intricate than the original.
According to this article, “collectors of kintsugi are so enamored of the art that some were accused of deliberately smashing valuable pottery so it could be repaired with the gold seams of kintsugi.”
Our imperfections give us opportunities to increase our beauty. Our intricacies are works of art. We were never intended to be flawless copies, but glorious originals.
Moving Forward
So I am officially recalling my statement about needing to wear makeup every single day for the rest of my life. Instead, I am going to continue wearing it when I feel like it (or when I have time…). My “repair” is much more exciting to me. I am giving myself permission to act my age unapologetically. I no longer need to worry that people will think I’m too young or inexperienced to __________________. True, my face does not contain the youthful glow it did a decade or two ago, but it is mine. My smile is genuine (even if a little saggier). In the place of a youthful glow is a complexion of experience. Now others can see me and recognize that I am a woman–not a girl–who has a story to share and experiences of value. I can see the same when I see my reflection or come across a recent picture of myself.
What will you do?
I can think of so many ways to apply kintsugi in my own life and my myriad of imperfections! This article points out three basic principles from the art of kintsugi: “Since its conception, Kintsugi has been heavily influenced by prevalent philosophical ideas. Namely, the practice is related to the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi, which calls for seeing beauty in the flawed or imperfect. The repair method was also born from the Japanese feeling of mottainai, which expresses regret when something is wasted, as well as mushin, the acceptance of change.” Can you see ways that kintsugi will enhance your life?
I hope you will find joy as you apply the art of kintsugi in your own life.
