Golden Repair

“There is a crack, a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” ---Leonard Cohen, Anthem

Kintsugi is a Japanese art for repairing damaged pottery where powdered gold, silver or platinum is applied to the broken areas.

The 400-year-old technique, also known kintsukuroi, or “golden repair,” treats breakage and repair as part an object's history, rather than something to disguise.

Psychologists have applied the concept of kintsugi as a way of viewing emotional injuries so we that accept and embrace our problems and imperfections rather than try to hide them.

I’d heard about the kintsugi years ago, but I googled it yesterday following a weird and ultimately wonderful dream I had that kicked off with me brawling with a total stranger and ended up with me meeting the love of my life.

This mental midnight double feature occurred earlier in the week, and it started with a bang.

For reasons that I don’t begin to understand, I’m in a small office somewhere kung-fu fighting like a maniac with some guy like I was James Bond battling with a SPECTRE agent.

It really felt like a spy movie scene and apparently, I was on a top-secret mission. There was no rage or fury; it didn’t seem to be a personal rumble, but rather a necessary action to take out an enemy.

After clobbering the guy, I left the office and started walking quickly toward the exit because I didn’t want to be caught by the dude’s employers…whoever the hell they were.

I turned a corner, entered the building’s lobby and the entire tone of the dream instantly changed. “What a beautiful lobby,” I gushed, taken in by my surroundings.

There was no sense of fear or urgency, no desire to escape, no memory of the fight at all.

The next thing I remember I was sitting down in this lobby, which was apparently at a hospital or a doctor’s office.

I looked up and made eye contact with this beautiful African American woman and it was just like the rom-coms—we fell instantly in love.

This woman was the one for me, I just knew it. I could almost hear the violins playing in the background.

And then she turned head slightly and I saw this nasty gash-—like a fresh knife wound--on her face.

Cheek to Cheek

I was shocked at this appalling injury for about two seconds, but then I quickly calmed down.

“Hey, scars heal,” I said to myself. “People get better, and life goes on. It’s no big deal. This injury doesn’t change my feelings for this woman.”

Then I looked down at my left hand and I saw the exact same scar.

And that’s all I can remember.

On the surface, the first half of the dream looks like it could be just an aging adolescent manly man fantasy, stemming from a need to be a hero and a tough guy.

I had been watching a British suspense drama earlier that evening that featured a couple of fight scenes and those TV bouts might have inspired my nocturnal ninja routine.

But therapists believe that we portray every character in our dreams. So if you have a nightmare that you’re being chased by a hideous monster, you’re not just you in the dream; you’re also the monster.

I’m wondering if my opponent represents some dark part of myself that I’m trying to banish: hosility, self-sabotage, fear—the negative aspects of my personality that are holding me back.

This is the comfort zone creature who makes excuses to avoid socializing and dating in favor of a weekend of Netflix and Chinese takeout.

The second half of the dream is an obvious desire for love and connection. The scars are clearly symbolic of the damage—both physical and emotional—that all humans experience.

My understanding of this woman’s injuries and the acknowledgement of my own defects shows my willingness to accept this reality.

There’s no such thing as perfection, so don’t waste precious time looking it. Part of the reason people come together in the first place to help each other heal.

Being half-Italian, I put a lot of stock in dreams, so I’m going to keep this one on my internal speed dial to remind myself that we’re all damaged goods.

And now I must take my leave. Somewhere there’s a lady with a bleeding cheek waiting to meet me.