Precious Fragmentation
Reminiscing About Japan & Thoughts on Reading "Culture Care" by Makoto Fujimura
“…culture care starts with the identification and articulation of brokenness.” (Makoto Fujimura, Culture Care)
We walked down an empty brick street, the rain pelting us as we laughed and ducked under the doorframe to a simple, grey home. Okinawa’s green, lush vegetation, overflowing variety of flowers, and warm thick air was partial to sudden downpours. It was my third day in Okinawa, Japan visiting my best friend. She had fashioned two whole weeks of adventure, culture, and whimsy for us to enjoy together, and today’s agenda included learning about the art of kintsugi. I first came across the Japanese art form from reading a book called Culture Care by Japanese artist Makoto Fujimura back in college, and I jumped at the chance to see it done in person.
The door opened, and the sweetest mother and daughter duo greeted us, ushering us into the tatami floored foyer. We removed our shoes, placing them with toes toward the door, (as my friend taught me was custom) and smiled our thanks to our hosts for welcoming us into their home. Throughout my stay, I found the Japanese people to be incredibly welcoming, their smiles ready and authentically joyful. Our hosts spoke little English, but their warmth and delight at our curiosity emanated from their beautiful eyes and smiles. We all sat down at a table laden with delicate tools, tiny dishes, and palettes filled with broken stones and pottery. We were about to create pendant necklaces from the crushed and splintered pieces before us.
“Humans broke away from God’s purposes in Eden, and our rebellion results in ongoing fragmentation, separation, decay, and death…” (Makoto Fujimura, Culture Care)
The mother and daughter invited us to pick the broken pieces we desired to fashion into our necklaces. Their postures were quiet, contemplative, joyful, and I felt that this was a decision worth my time, my attention, imagination, and in some way…my love. It’s hard to be fully present in moments that we know we will look back on one day with longing. The humble home, the tatami mats, the low table and stools, the little lamps spilling their warm light upon us—four women joined together in this time, this space, this act of creativity and care. Language is often spoken of as a boundary, but I found myself feel more deeply connected with these women—and my friend—through the heightened attention to our tone, movement, eyes, and that sense of created souls sharing in the act of creation…despite the language “barrier.”
Time, thankfully, slowed.
