When it gets cold outside, I like to start my morning with a cup of tea. Peppermint, Earl Gray, Chai. I'm not picky. But one thing is for sure, I always use the same mug. It's kept its shine over the last two years, made of turquoise and white painted porcelain. The handle is made to look like a flower. It's pretty and that's probably why I bought it in the first place. This morning, for whatever reason, I reached behind the "pretty mug" and grabbed a mug that I've had for 11 years. It's white. That's it. Oh, and it has a handle, but only because I glued it back on after knocking it off a ledge. At the time, I only owned one other mug.
The "pretty mug" is no doubt a joy to drink out of, but the white mug, although old, evokes a different emotion. It's old. It's broken. I bought it in London and it made it's way from Europe to Indiana to Los Angeles. It's shine lacks luster, it wasn't found on the shelves of Anthropologie, and it's many cracks make it look fragile. And this is exactly what made me grab for it. It is rough around the edges. It has been broken. It is better now because of it.
As someone who has spent much of her lifetime on the go, moving and shaking, dreaming big and acting fast, I appreciate the "broken moments" more than ever. The "pretty mug" lifestyle cannot be maintained. Every hair can't always be in place. Every shirt has the ability to wrinkle. Every mug, broken. It is these moments where we learn our limits, reconfirm our humanity, and appreciate all that we have vs. what we don't have a "handle" on (mug pun intended). Cracks in our armor is what makes us relate to one another. It puts all of us on a level playing field.
If you are afraid to break, or show people that you in fact, CAN break, try it :) Watch how people surprise you. The more we break, the more we build a solid foundation of support. No man (or woman) is an island, as much as we love the sunshine.
To all things broken and loved more because of it.
Have a beautiful weekend,