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By Gregg Murray Why do people find Army robot BigDog creepy but C-3PO funny? It’s not just because BigDog lugs around equipment for killing people and
Social justice, mobile technology and a truly modular device. This IS tech that helps.
My goal for the next year is to practice Kintsugi. The art of mending broken pottery. Of course pottery is a metaphor. So much is broken. Much of it has been broken due to my choices. I cannot send back the sand but I can honor life by mending the breaks. I choose to live rightly now, just as I made hurtful choices of the past. I choose to mend in a way to make something new. To learn from the pain I created and I had.
In Kintsugi, Not only is there no attempt to hide the damage, but the repair is literally illuminated
This is a lesson which keeps returning and I need to keep understanding. Listening can be a restorative action. Simple and meaningful. Listening will be the gold dust and lacquer of my mending process.
I will mend actively and directly what I can and what I cannot directly mend, I will listen deeply to others and myself as a way to make a living amend. Hmmm mend and amend.
I will not become discouraged by my own imperfection, these are the cracks I must highlight so as to know them, mend them and move forward. Another Japanese term, Mono no aware – The Pathos of Things, is often tied to Kintsugi. A bitter sweet melancholia of a holding the pieces of a treasured bowl now broken.
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It looks like I’ll be going to a Burn’s Supper this year and that got me looking into why Scots are into him. Poet Laureate of Scotland, holder of the flame of written Scots language, keeper of the soul of Scotland, ok. So I’m looking through his body of work and I come across the “fragment” entitled remorse.
Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish,
Beyond comparison the worst are those
That to our folly or our guilt we owe.
In every other circumstance, the mind
Has this to say, ‘It was no deed of mine;’
But when to all the evil of misfortune
This sting is added–‘Blame thy foolish self!’
Or worser far, the pangs of keen remorse;
The torturing, gnawing consciousness of guilt,–
Of guilt, perhaps, where we’ve involved others;
The young, the innocent, who fondly lov’d us,
Nay, more, that very love their cause of ruin!
O burning hell! in all thy store of torments,
There’s not a keener lash!
Lives there a man so firm, who, while his heart
Feels all the bitter horrors of his crime,
Can reason down its agonizing throbs;
And, after proper purpose of amendment,
Can firmly force his jarring thoughts to peace?
O, happy! happy! enviable man!
O glorious magnanimity of soul!
So much here speaks to me. The cadence, the vulnerability, the realness. I see myself in many of these crafted phrases. All at once humble, present and truly touching the “guilt we owe.” I’ve resolved to memorize this. This calls to me to persevere in my noble efforts.