Broken objects
When I try to grasp a mental image of my first ever memory, I see myself at nursery wearing a rust coloured watch. It has a shiny clockface, beautiful shades of amber, tiny copper arrows pointing in the direction of numbers I can't yet read. It is also broken but I am oblivious to the fact. I'm proud to wear this symbol of independence, giving off an air of busyness, on my left wrist. That is until one of the carers carelessly lifts my wrist, looks at the watch and bursts out laughing: “What do you need a watch for?! Especially a broken one…?”
Since I was very young, I was told that broken objects “steal” energy. And ever since it was brought to my attention that the watch was broken, I felt a certain sense of discomfort and embarrassment wearing it. Why don't all grown ups go with the flow of children's imaginations? Perhaps it comes from a place of bitterness, someone else stealing their own precious fantasy. But I digress…
Broken objects. It pains us to see a chipped mirror. Its cracks insistently pull our gaze like a purulent wound, begging to crust over, heal and grow all smooth again. It demands our attention. A malfunctioning device stirs up circular thoughts of irritation, annoyance, anger. It is not long until our focus shifts from the task in hand to trying to fix that malfunctioning laptop, phone or headset.
“Can you hear me?”
“Have you tried turning your mic off and on?”
“I can't hear anything. Shall we try again?”
“Sorry?”
What is this call even about anymore? You get the idea.
Superstitions aside, I suppose in a way broken objects do steal energy. They make us invest more attention and time in trying to fix them or at least in thinking about it, which in itself is taxing for our cognitive functioning. And if we're literally surrounded by broken things, we are likely to have a constant background hum of tiny imaginary voices of Stuff begging to be fixed.
Purge, purge, purge. Let spring clean turn into autumn clean or winter clean. Whatever it may be! Giving you mind freedom from these tiny voices (or just daily nudges - whatever makes you feel less like a mad person!).
If all else fails, embrace the wonderful Japanese practice of filling cracks of broken pieces with gold. Kintsugi. So lovely and satisfying is the idea that you can even buy an already broken ceramic bowl with a repair kit! But something is telling me you might already have a broken object handy! So kintsugi away, not necessarily literally but think of some healing ways through which you can transform those shattered pieces into something beautiful. Maybe those shattered pieces are you? In which case you have everything in your power to transform too.
But whatever you do, don't steal children's imaginations (or anyone else’s for that matter, if they still hold onto it!). Even of their whole world in that millisecond revolves around a broken object, it might be their compass and their joy. Don't ruin it.
What made my week
L'art de la Simplicité: How to Live More with Less
I might or might not be on a mission to declutter my home and make it more minimalistic. This book has been on my mind a lot this week. Less, better quality stuff = more joy. Japanese (I'm obsessed, aren't I?!) aesthetics in the words of a French author. Expect to revise everything: from your bathroom routine to your kitchen utensils. Just don't touch my wardrobe. I like to have options!