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I am shattered.  Into a million tiny bits.  Scattered everywhere at once.   In this space, there is not even an inside to come to.  There is nothing. I am broken.

And yet still, I breathe.  And this breath, well, it must have a container, right?

And this heart?  Well, it is still beating too and so it must also have a body.

But the pieces of myself that are torn to shreds are the ones that belong to my Eternal Being, not this physical one. It is painful beyond words.  It is devastating beyond compare.  I am not sure that I am reparable.  I feel rage, anger, sadness, desperation, sorrow….

until the breath, it calls me.  And slowly with each inhale, I feel a tiny shard of me return.  It may not be much, but it is a beginning, and I’ll take it.  With focus and intention,  I use my breath to bring in more pieces.  and more.  and more. There are so so so many still to collect.  Collect them, I must and will.

I am reminded of a broken piece of pottery my then 6yo son laboriously taped together.  Each and every tiny ceramic shard.  He taped it back to its perfect original form. It took him hours.  I remember looking at that tenderly repaired pottery, now so obviously “imperfect” and feeling a surge of incredible love for him and the time and care he took.  Each piece of tape represented his concentration and intent.  He didn’t give up until it was whole again.

And then he sheepishly presented it to me, wondering if I’d noticed it had been broken in the first place. I actually did not notice.  I just thought how odd it was he decided to cover the small bowl in tape.  When I realized what had happened, that bowl took on new meaning, it became a symbol of what is possible when we care, when we are willing to do something that seems impossible, like taping a bowl back together teeny tiny bit by bit not leaving even the smallest piece out.  And it was more beautiful to me than it had ever been in its original form.  Its function as a bowl long lost.  But its inspiration as a symbol of perserverance profoundly moving.

This image, this memory, of that bowl, keeps me going.  Keeps me searching out more scattered pieces.  Keeps me focused on putting myself back together with tenderness and care and the willingness to believe it is possible.  With the innocence and compassion and willingness of a child who cares… a whole lot, I slowly come back to Wholeness.

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