You are probably familiar with the Japanese practice of Kintsugi, even if you don’t recognize the name. Kintsugi is the practice of repairing broken pottery with gold. Originally done with resin and gold powder it is an expression of wabi-sabi. Wabi-sabi is an aesthetic and philosophical concept that embraces the beauty of imperfection, impermanence and incompleteness. It is rooted in Zen Buddhism, and encourages an appreciation for the transient and imperfect nature of life.
Scars are the human equivalent of kintsugi. In an era where people are trying to look perfect, there is something revolutionary about embracing imperfection. Every scar tells a story. From stretch marks caused by pregnancy, to the faded scar on the forehead from running into the car door as a toddler, each one marks a moment in time. They form a map to a life lived (and hopefully lived well).
I have my own share of scars. The longest is on my left shoulder from reconstructive surgery to put my arm back together. The oldest, that I am aware of, is a small one on my forehead from when I was a toddler. I have a small scar on the index finger of my left hand from a slip with a breadknife, and a keloid scar on my chest from a mole removal.
For me, Kintsugi isn’t just a metaphor for a cracked tea bowl; it’s a framework for looking in the mirror. After my surgeries and the various ‘structural failures’ my body has navigated over the last few years, I’ve often felt like a piece of ceramic that hit the floor. Ya, I can be glued back together but I’ll never be what I once was. My arm doesn’t move like it once did. I can’t ride a bike like I once did. I can’t get out of bed without aching like I once did.
The instinct in our culture is to hide the glue—to pretend the break never happened. But Wabi-sabi suggests that the repair is actually the most interesting part of the story. My scars are my gold resin. Maybe, just maybe, those cracks make me a little more beautiful. They don’t just show where I was broken; they show that I was worth the effort of putting back together.