The broken places

Sometimes I think that beauty is about being able to see the beauty in the world around you. That the most dazzling charm you can possess is the charm of eyes shining with wonder, beaming and wide.

This morning over coffee and heart-opening conversation, I was told by a dear friend that I am a fount of feeling. At this I giggled, painfully aware of my own emotional abundance yet softened by the affection in his voice.

It's true: you can accuse me of many things, but being numb is not—will hopefully never be—one of them.

The journey of my life, it seems, is the journey of being a lightning rod for this boundless energy. When it strikes, I used to let it scorch me. Now, I am learning to wield it, contain it, to let it course through like a flood and transmute it into awe, awareness, aliveness.

The secret about our flaws is this: they are either the flipside of our gifts or the potentiality of our growth. To understand that the places within you that you couldn't bare to look at contain the seeds of your best self is to become acquainted with a hidden benevolence in the design of your life.

You are an instrument. You are not broken. And in fact, maybe you have simply been trying to play the keys on an instrument with strings, not knowing the melody you're meant to become is entirely different, more textured and novel than the one you were told to play.

And so my unfolding: the process of seeing the neediest, most selfish and brittle parts of me and to finally outstretch my arms to a full embrace. This is part of me, too, and this is not my downfall. It's my power.