Broken Yet Still Beautiful

This morning found us by the bay. Sunblock, crab traps, fishing poles and the giggles of excited children awaiting the arrival of some new sea friends. My mind has been so full that releasing it into the breeze and feeling the full summer sun on my face felt good. Real good. I look at my feet and notice the sparklings of green, brown and opague white sprinkled all along the shore. My mind drifts off with the current as I imagine the stories each piece of broken glass holds. Did they come with messages of hope from some far off love? Did she recieve it with love or riddance? Were they lost without hope of ever being recovered? Were they broken instantly or had it been a gradual destruction through time?

Life has been different for me lately. It has sharp points, it has ones that have dulled. It's in a sort of stand still, all the while spinning. A turning point. A crossroads. I find a strange kinship with the inatimate shards of beaten glass. I feel weathered and broken, too. I feel sharply those pieces that are missing. I know some will never be recovered. I wonder if other pieces will. So, yes, I'm broken. I'm lost. I've been tossed, turned and taken out to sea. Beaten and battered by waves of change, some wanted, some not. The storms have been unkind yet necessary to my outcome in so many different ways. The undertoe has taken me. I've held my breath and I've landed on many different shores. Some happy. Some full of devastation and despair. Each shore has taught me something in life. Good things and bad things. I've left pieces of me all over. These pieces of glass held glistening in my hand have left pieces of their original all over the place. I wonder where each piece belongs. How far has it traveled? Does it belong where it was left? Had it been battered enough or was there more to come? I wonder if all the pieces were found, would the vessel return to its original form? Would I? I don't believe that to be true at all. The scrapes and workings of the sea and of life would never allow them to be whole again. The pieces would never again fit together as perfectly as they once had. Would never allow myself to be whole again. The tides have changed us forever in all their workings. I thought on that for a while and for the first time in a long time I felt inspired.

Broken things CAN be beautiful. They can.

The glass can, you can, even I can. Stay tuned for a whole new line of beautifully broken treasures and truths---both in my shop and in my life.