Pieces Of

"Is this a soul that stirs in me
Is it breaking free,
Wanting to come alive?"
 - C.S. Lewis Song, by Brooke Fraser

 Think of times when breaking is beautiful: the sun breaking through the clouds, a diver breaking through calm water, a geode - dull on the outside - breaking apart to reveal the glittering center. 

Think of times when breaking causes grief yet can be transformed. A piece of pottery falling onto a hard surface and breaking apart before being restored through filling the cracks with gold in the Japanese tradition, rendering an object more striking than ever before. A heart which feels as though it's in pieces in someone's chest, slowly mending until it feels whole once more. Still tender in parts, holding room for sadness yet healed and having gained resilience and empathy. 

There's a series of paintings I adore by an Austin artist titled "Robots In Rowboats". Each piece features a robot in the midst of a tender moment; looking at the stars, playing a musical instrument, interacting with an animal, holding a snow globe, and of course out on the water in a rowboat. The artist's work is prolific, a slew of scenes from her imagination and from commissioned requests. From the first time I saw the paintings, I was enchanted. There is a quirky charm to the work, in part because each robot is somewhat rusted or oddly shapen, and though they mainly feature wide smiles which spread across their metal faces, the eyes appear to be a little sad. They have felt things, these robots. They have yearned. They recognize beauty and delight and, like most of us, also know that continued desire for something more. 

I would love to have a conversation with the artist and ask her interpretation of her work. I'm always feeling a mix of joy and sorrow, the one touching the edges of the other in varying degrees, so I'm surely always looking for it as well, either finding it truthfully or in a projection. What do you find?

A piñata breaking open to pour forth candy and prizes. A perfect egg breaking open to reveal a baby bird. A wave breaking upon the rocks, white-tipped and magnificent. 

We find we can run from brokenness and sadness and chase after wholeness and happiness, but maybe they're all light and shadows playing across the same canvas, vibrantly connected. Maybe we can be happy while still yearning, the splintered pieces of us still fragile though turning more golden. 

A melon breaking in two to share the sweet fruit inside. A raindrop breaking on the pavement, creating a splash which momentarily looks like a cup and saucer. A serious face breaking into a smile. We break ... and yearn ... and find.