Mend What Matters

There’s a Japanese art called kintsugi. When a piece of pottery breaks, the cracks are repaired with gold lacquer. The result? The object isn’t just restored—it’s made more beautiful, more valuable because of its imperfections.

Think about that.

A culture obsessed with perfection would see a cracked bowl as ruined, disposable. But in kintsugi, the damage becomes part of the story. The break isn’t hidden; it’s highlighted.

The same should be true of us.

We are so terrified of failure, of rejection, of being less than. We cover up our mistakes, smooth over our flaws, pretend we haven’t been broken. But why? What good does that do?

Scars—whether physical, emotional, or otherwise—are proof of life. They show that you endured, that you survived, that you learned. And if you’re wise, they show that you came out better for it.

In Meditations, Marcus Aurelius reminds himself, “What stands in the way becomes the way.” The obstacles, the hardships, the losses—these are not things to avoid. They are the path itself.

Look at nature. Muscles grow by being torn and repaired. Bones become stronger under stress. Trees that survive harsh winds develop deeper roots.

So why should we think we are any different?

What breaks you can make you—if you let it.

Most people spend their lives running from pain, playing it safe, keeping their surface uncracked. They stay in their comfort zone, choosing the path that guarantees the least amount of failure instead of the one that offers the most amount of growth.

That’s not living. That’s avoiding life.

The Stoics would tell us to embrace adversity, to use our hardships as fuel, to see our wounds as wisdom rather than weakness. The samurai had a similar idea—kensho, or growth through suffering. The strongest, wisest, most interesting people you’ll meet are the ones who have been through something and emerged better.

So don’t hide your cracks. Don’t smooth them over. Highlight them. Gild them. Show them to the world.

Because in the end, the most beautiful things aren’t the ones that have never been broken.

They’re the ones that were put back together—stronger, wiser, and full of gold.