Wednesday, 9 May 2012
may 9, 2012
amongst the piles and piles of abandoned junk left in the cupboards of my new kitchen, there was this beautiful teapot. a little beacon of awesome.
i think we're the same age, me and this teapot. in any case, it looks like my childhood.
when i take off the lid and look inside, i see it has the marks of time on its surface. like us, it bears the stretch marks of scalding and cooling: the thread-like roads that mark the lasting costs of change.
you know, at the time, all that heat seems worth the risk of breaking. and it sometimes is. there are experiences in which cooling is all the mending you need. when, after an ending, balance is restored with the gesture of distance.
but, no matter the details of a given story, there's always a price to be paid for the vessel. love and lust are like that, i think. we pay for the heat we hold. even if it's just for a brief moment. the risks of love and the enduring need for it cause the yearning for expansion, contraction, expansion, contraction. this cycle of dissolving and reforming bonds – seemingly at a cellular level.
we all warp and wear sometimes...feel askew or too heavy from the weight and heat inside us. when it comes down to it, a temperature difference is all it takes for cracks to form: tepid vs boiling, cool vs frozen.
like me, this teapot has learned the difference between worn, used and broken. they're nothing alike. each of the three is a separate reality to grasp. or maybe a decision to make at the meeting point of possibility?
i see used as a feeling that results from actions that are charged with a negative intent. actions that result in a feeling of betrayal after an expectation or set of expectations isn't fulfilled. it's the damage caused by (a) an actual betrayal or (b) a schism in reality that feels like one. i.e.: i thought you'd want to fill my teapot again tonight! don't you like my tea?
mind you, of use is different. i see that as an eyes-wide-open decision to give something of yourself, no matter the cost. i.e.: i have a great love of you, and you have a great love of tea. i will be the vessel to bring you said tea, even if it burns me. there's power and transparency behind it.
i see brokenness as resulting from a careless collision of borders. it happens when one thing or person is so hard as to break another. i.e.: using a hammer to drain the tea from the pot instead of attempting to pour it.
it seems like we take turns on these different roads throughout our lives. if we're lucky, they meet, and we get to remind ourselves of options.
i remember, years ago, learning the origin of the word trivia: it comes from tri, meaning three, and via, meaning road, referring to the place where three roads meet. this was the place where travelers used to gather and exchange knowledge.
to me, that's the essence of the whole thing: life, love, living, loving. we're these travelers on these different roads. on occasion, we stumble upon a meeting place where we have a moment to sit and breathe, listen and speak. and remember.