The broken teacup

Occasionally I drop a teacup to shatter on the floor on purpose,
and I’m not satisfied when it doesn’t gather itself up again.

What if the teacup… is you?

Falling down might take a while, but the floor is always inevitable.
The crash makes a painful sound and then it’s replaced by silence.
Pieces of the teacup are everywhere around.

It’s the eternal moment of expectation. Like something’s about to happen.
But nobody knows how will that end yet.

In this place everything is unknown.

And then the moment passes…
It has passed for me.

The teacup’s broken. It’s never going to gather itself back together again.

What to do now? How to go on?
I realized that there’s no need to go on. It can all just stop here. There’s no obligation. It was tempting… But I didn’t want to stop. I felt that I can’t. I am not allowed to.

If everything that can happen, happens.
It has to end well and it has to end badly.
It has to end every way it can.

And if this is the way it ended for you…

If everything that can happen happens,
then you can never really do the wrong thing.
You’re just doing what you’re supposed to.

I’ve made my own choice, despite everything and waded into the quiet of the stream.

But once you’ll gain a shadow, it might accompany you. It will whisper to you, make the sweetest promises. And you’ll like them… It’s like falling into a trance – dangerous.

Do you have a shadow? Someone only you can see.
Someone you considered a friend who made you feel less alone.
Until you saw what [s]he really is…

I got lost. I felt truly lost and on my own. So me and I were… roving. Where am I going? – I asked myself. No answers. This person knew what to do and was already doing it but I was only supposed to keep company and remember to take my eyes off the shade. Answers were about to come later, as actions. In other words: I have gone astray. But I let myself to do things intuitively, no matter what are they and where do they lead.

And the answer has come.

japanese-rice-bowl-2b

Kintsugi or Kintsukuroi – is the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum (…). As a philosophy it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise (…) [and] embracing of the flawed or imperfect. Japanese æsthetics values marks of wear by the use of an object. This can be seen as a rationale for keeping an object around even after it has broken and as a justification of kintsugi itself, highlighting the cracks and repairs as simply an event in the life of an object rather than allowing its service to end at the time of its damage or breakage.

“Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated… a kind of physical expression of the spirit of mushin….Mushin is often literally translated as “no mind,” but carries connotations of fully existing within the moment, of non-attachment, of equanimity amid changing conditions. …The vicissitudes of existence over time, to which all humans are susceptible, could not be clearer than in the breaks, the knocks, and the shattering to which ceramic ware too is subject. This poignancy or aesthetic of existence has been known in Japan as mono no aware, a compassionate sensitivity, or perhaps identification with, [things] outside oneself”.

This is just a part of the road.
I don’t know where does it lead, but it’s alright.
I’ll trust the path. It leads exactly where it needs to…

Kernel Panic – not syncing: fatal exception

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