Broken

I’ve been thinking about broken things lately, in more of a personal way than just pottery.  If there was a mystical glue I could go and buy from the local discount store I would be on my way back with the magic stuff to put everything in my life back together.

Gluing pots back keeps the pieces together but doesn’t look as good as it did before.  The chips and dips of a broken vase or any dish remind me each time I look that I once again I made a mistake or a bad decision or acted in haste, without thinking.

The constant reminder that I am not perfect, or even worse perhaps, not even a very good Diane today wears on me.

What I struggle to achieve is the concept of forgiveness;  to learning from my actions; to breath; to think ahead; to accept….or to use the glue I have and appreciate that.

This morning I remembered that the practice I had of thanking God or the Universe or whomever for all the people in my life before falling asleep had been forgotten.  I had also forgotten to thank the gods and goddesses for all that I do have.

So thanks for being in my life.  Thanks for all you do.  I am blessed with a rich and complex life and steadfast friends and family.

Gluing broken pots back together is a lesson in patience.  It teaches perseverance. The reward is the reminder that I am human.  I like that.

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