Death lurks all around. I’m at an age where it’s not
unexpected.
I find this freeing.
What am I waiting for? The time to live is now. So even though it’s a gloomy morning and the promise of spring is
filled with the promise of snow, sleet and strong winds, I’m feeling energized. Every time I hear of
another death, I’m reminded of what a
gift it is to breathe, to see and to live.
I’m wanting to forget about perfection and make more mistakes. What’s the worst
that could happen? Make a fool of myself? Done that. Hurt other people? Done that. Fail? Done that,
too. Being broken is the state of being human.
![File:Tea bowl, Korea, Joseon dynasty, 16th century AD, Mishima-hakeme type, buncheong ware, stoneware with white engobe and translucent, greenish-gray glaze, gold lacquer - Ethnological Museum, Berlin - DSC02061.JPG](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/eb/Tea_bowl%2C_Korea%2C_Joseon_dynasty%2C_16th_century_AD%2C_Mishima-hakeme_type%2C_buncheong_ware%2C_stoneware_with_white_engobe_and_translucent%2C_greenish-gray_glaze%2C_gold_lacquer_-_Ethnological_Museum%2C_Berlin_-_DSC02061.JPG/800px-thumbnail.jpg)
Yesterday, on the CBC, Michael Enright interviewed MaggieO’Farrell (author of the memoir, I Am,
I Am, I Am and other novels). They talked about her encounters with death and the randomness of life.
And when he asked her about writing a memoir, as opposed
to fiction, she compared it to the
Japanese art of Kintsugi, taking a broken object of ceramic and putting it back together with powdered gold or
silver, and creating a new object. I love that metaphor. Life as Kintsugi, creating art from shattered lives.
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