The Beauty in Brokenness
on breaking, change, and the constant state of becoming
It all happened in minutes.
One of my favourite bowls slipped from my daughter’s hands and shattered into a jagged collection that skittered across the floor.
Moments later, a bird hit the living room window. We tried to save the adolescent pileated woodpecker, involving a brief struggle with the barn cats who tried to turn it into a late lunch, but the impact had already taken its toll. The bird’s neck broke before it hit the ground.
My daughter and I stood in disbelief, the taste of our half-eaten snack in our mouths, and I felt the thready heartbeat cease, the bird’s lingering warmth solid against my palm.
It wasn’t until after we had cleaned up the shards, vacuumed, and said a brief prayer over the woodpecker buried among the roots of the flower garden that my daughter turned to me and said, “they were both broken.”
Because, indeed, they had broken.
Even more than that, they were in a transition.
How often do we look at broken things with shame, guilt, or anger?
As humans, we cling to the illusion that things in life are permanent - the bowl will always hold our berries, the bird will always take to the sky, our favourite routines, jobs, or relationships will remain in stasis. Unchanged, as they were.
But they don’t.
They can’t.
Things shift. They decompose. They fade, fray, fall apart.
They degrade, morph, succeed, adjust, resolve.
So many beautiful words to describe change.
change: replace with something else, especially something of the
same kind that may be newer or the next step
Sometimes, change feels like a loss. A failure. A brokenness.
But what if it doesn’t need to be?
Shift.
Transform.
Resolve.
Translate.
Alter.
Soft, gentle ways of describing what is natural and inevitable: the constant state of becoming.
As Einstein said, energy isn’t created or destroyed. It just becomes something else.
Change is inevitable.
The broken bowl has brought out a creative energy in me.
Why not transform the pieces into a mosaic tile plant holder using an old stool that has been sitting in the garage?
The bird? Over the next year, time will soften the body, soil critters will work their magic to convert the flesh into earth, and leave behind beautiful bones. Next spring we will dig up the remains and create art.
Transformation, not tragedy.
We often tell ourselves that we are broken, by disappointment, failure, rejection, or the fatigue of it all. What if broken isn’t the correct word?
What if we reframe our ‘brokenness’ to the mindset that we are simply in motion?
We are energy, constantly meeting other energy.
A gust of wind tangles our hair, which leads to a compliment, which leads to a conversation, leading to an unexpected job connection.
A missed turn takes us down a different street to a newly-opened café.
A forgotten grocery item unearths a new recipe that becomes a family favourite.
When we stay open to the shift, we don’t need to be broken. We just go with the flow. We move with it.
If we focus only on what is lost, there can never be the thought of ‘what is possible now’.
Breaking the Broken Bits
Where in my life have I experienced a “break” that became a beginning?
What energy in my life is asking to be transformed rather than tightly held?
What can I create from something that feels broken?
We never know where life will take us and brokenness never needs to be an option.
Beauty exists in the breaking. There can be creativity in what remains.
And we, are always, becoming.
Siobhan holds a MSc. in Soil Science & Climate Change and is a Certified Personal Empowerment Coach helping women and youth transform through connection with Self, Stories and Words. She teaches creativity in small daily acts of playfulness and exploration.
Are you feeling stuck and not sure of next steps? I’d love to work with you and guide you to see the forest through the trees. I’m currently accepting 1:1 virtual mentoring clients at mytruenature.ca.
Follow me at @true.nature.creative on IG for daily thoughts and reflections.
there is great wisdom in this, Siobhan. and, also, it is hard. change, however it comes, takes energy -- both to experience in the moment (that favourite bowl shattering) and then to morph it into something other than the obvious brokenness (your mosaic-tile plans). I shall ponder your words; thank you.