This past winter, when it was really cold and dry here and my life felt unmanageable, I attended a Kintsugi workshop where I met other people who felt the same.

For different reasons.

We were invited to take a hammer and smash some things, and then we sat there and pieced the shatters back together, together, talking about the process, showing off our imperfections and mistakes on purpose.

I now pass this bowl many times a day in my home and cliché as it sounds, every time I see it, I am reminded that beauty can come from broken things.

From broken people.