Chapter 7: Kintsugi for Your Personal and Professional Soul
- Admin
- May 29
- 3 min read
Updated: May 30

“Broken is not the end. It is the beginning of your golden becoming.
We’ve all felt that quiet ache when life cracks us open—a dream that slips away, a relationship that frays, a moment when we stumble and feel like we’ve lost a piece of ourselves. In those moments, we feel fragile, like we’re not enough.
But what if those cracks aren’t the end? What if they’re where your beauty begins?
Kintsugi: Finding Beauty in Your Broken Places
Kintsugi, the Japanese art of “golden repair,” teaches us that broken things aren’t meant to be hidden or discarded. They’re mended with care, with gold brushed into the cracks to make them radiant. The fractures aren’t erased—they’re celebrated as part of the story.
This isn’t just about pottery. It’s about you—your heart, your journey, your healing. It’s a gentle invitation to see yourself as a work of art, cracks and all.
Your Scars Are Your Story
The world often nudges us to hide our flaws, to pretend we’re unbroken. But Kintsugi offers a softer truth:
That heartbreak you carried? It taught you to love yourself with more tenderness.
That moment you felt you failed? It carved a deeper well of courage within you.
That season of doubt or exhaustion? It guided you to rediscover what truly lights you up.
Your cracks aren’t flaws to be ashamed of. They’re proof you’ve lived, loved, and kept moving forward. They’re the golden lines that make you uniquely, beautifully you.
Your Life as a Living Vessel
Like a cherished ceramic bowl, your life will chip and crack over time. Plans unravel, dreams shift, and sometimes you feel a little lost. But this isn’t failure—it’s Kintsugi in your soul.
The people who grow through life’s cracks are those who:
Mend themselves with kindness instead of judgment.
Reflect on their experiences instead of burying them.
Reinvent themselves with hope instead of giving up.
They embrace the golden seams that make them whole.
Kintsugi Living: Sharing Your True Self
In a world that often celebrates perfection, there’s something brave and beautiful about showing up as your real, imperfect self. When you share your story—not to linger in pain, but to honor how it shaped you—you invite others to feel seen and understood.
A few years ago, my dear friend Karen and I took a day trip to Ruidoso, New Mexico, where we wandered into a charming Mexican furniture store. I fell in love with a set of vibrant red dishes, adorned with exuberant, hand-painted designs. They were bold, joyful, and full of life. I brought them home, and over the years, Karen gifted me more—serving bowls, platters, and pieces that filled my heart with warmth. They sat proudly displayed in my dining room, but I never used them. I was terrified that a chip or crack would ruin their perfection, leaving me steeped in regret.
Then, my daughter visited. She noticed the dishes and asked why they stayed on the shelf, gathering dust instead of stories. “Mom,” she said, “life’s too short to not enjoy the beautiful things you love.” Her words hit me like a gentle wake-up call. She was right. So, I invited Karen and her family over for dinner. We ordered Chinese takeout—nothing fancy—but served it in those vibrant dishes, every bowl and platter brimming with color and life. We laughed, shared stories, and dined like it was a grand occasion, because it was. Those dishes, once locked away out of fear, became vessels of connection and joy. And if one chips someday? I’ll mend it with gold, knowing it’s part of their story—and mine.
This isn’t about oversharing or dwelling on pain. It’s about living with purpose—using your cracks and your treasures to create moments that matter.
Reframing Your Golden Repair
Instead of asking, How do I hide this pain? Ask: How can this crack make me stronger? Instead of thinking, I’m broken, Whisper to yourself: I’m being reshaped into something radiant. Instead of giving up, Pause. Mend. Fill the fracture with gold.
Reflection Prompt:
What’s a personal “crack” you’ve been carrying—something you’ve felt ashamed of or tried to hide?
How could you reframe it as a golden seam—something that adds depth, meaning, or beauty to who you are becoming?
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