Ladylikeness 8: a real thing of beauty


"Ladies see beauty in their brokenness." 

I will be perfect. Just give me more time.  

This one's for you perfectionists out there. For you who only see your flaws. Your failures. Your shortcomings and not-good-enoughs. Your defeats. Your deficiencies. Your weak points. Your I-tried-so-hard-but-I-will-never-be-good-enoughs. 

So, basically, at least at one point or another, all of us. 

This week, my own battle with perfectionism reared its ugly head. Then a friend of mine told me about Kintsugi. It's the Japanese art of repairing cracked and broken pottery with lacquer mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. It purposefully highlights the flaw, the damage, the imperfection, while binding it back together to be stronger than ever. It sees the beauty in the broken story. And celebrates the renewed life of what had once been lost.


Every crack…


…tells a story…


…of pain…

…that left a scar…


…which will never fade…


…yet adds to its beauty.

One of the most beautiful attributes of a lady is her ability to accept her failures (with responsibility), hurts (with hope), pain (with purpose), while delighting in her story with all its ups, downs, cracks, and breaks. 

The juxtaposition of the two, like joining the broken pottery pieces to what is still sound, creates a one-of-a-kind loveliness that can never be recreated again.  

How To Put This Truth Into Action

Can we view our pain, our broken pieces, as part of our unique loveliness? I hope so. I think we all hope so. But, if you are your own worst critic like I am mine, I honestly don't know.

Here, however, is what I do know:

Some of the most beautiful women I've ever beheld were also the most scarred by life. Some of them emotionally. Some of them physically. Some by disappointment. Some by failure. Some by loss. Others by the weariness of the journey. 

But, they accepted their less-than-perfect selves and less-than-perfect life as valuable and worthy anyway. They could view their cracks and breaks with an appreciation for how it changed them and who it made them into. Ultimately, they admired the beauty within the finished, though scarred, end product.  

A woman with that kind of self-acceptance is dazzling. And who doesn’t want to be dazzling?

I think this Kintsugi art is growing on me. I'm disappointed I own so much pottery I haven't managed to break.