How I Found My Broken Hallelujah pt. 3 of 4

Have you listened to Part 1 and Part 2 yet? If not, start there!Broken things have long been romanticized in humanity’s search for renewal and redemption. The Japanese art of kintsugi is probably my favorite example.""KINSUGI" literary means gold (金 KIN) stitching (つぎ TSUGI) in Japanese. It is a Japanese art form of mending broken porcelain with lacquer (URUSHI), dusted with gold, or silver. The broken object gets revived with gold patches.The broken part is truly accepted and cherished as a history of the object, a form of art, rather than getting disguised with immaculate repairing. With Kintsugi, the broken object gets transformed into a unique piece of art. It becomes more beautiful and more attractive than ever." - Azumi Uchitani Yet broken glass is also sharp. There are big shards that are easier to avoid getting scraped by. And there are also tiny little pieces that remain long after you’ve swept up a broken measuring cup or wine glass. You won’t realize the tiny little shards are there until you step on one a few days later, just when you thought the floor beneath you was clean and clear.Broken things can be beautiful.Perhaps the sharpness and messiness are part of that beauty.But first, there’s shock and blood. The pressing of a towel or paper towel or whatever is nearest, against your gaping new wound. The band-aid is tasked with keeping your flesh together as it heals.I’ve only had stitches once, and the scar is gone. I think the actual experience of riding to the hospital with a wad of paper towels against my hand was scarier than the ordeal of getting the stitches themselves. At least when I got the stitches, I knew that I was being mended. I was literally on my way to healing.And that’s where I found myself at the end of my panic attack, broken mug ordeal.After staring at the broken mug for quite a while, I got a latte from my neighborhood coffee shop and sat on a rock in Central Park.I hadn’t planned to — but I felt compelled to finish that song I started a day ago on the train home from Brooklyn (see pt. 1 if you forgot about that detail!)I do not think I have ever written a song that quickly in my life.It’s called The Waves Are Calling. And it is my *broken hallelujah.*For those unfamiliar with the phrase, it originates from the Leonard Cohen song “Hallelujah.” We sang it in my high school chorus, back when I was a far cry from a broken hallelujah myself.Many, many artists have covered it, using a different selection of verses from the original in their renditions. You might have first heard it in Shrek.I’ve always longed for someone to see me; to examine the mismatched pieces of my soul, hold them up in the light, and sing a broken hallelujah.I now realize that that day I became that person myself.I saw that broken mug, I saw its beauty.And I saw myself in the broken pieces, and realized that my brokenness might be beautiful too.Subscribe so that you don't miss the fourth and final part, where you'll find out what life has been like since the broken glass/ broken hallelujah era began.SUBSCRIBE HEREIt’s not a cry that you hear at nightIt’s not somebody who’s seen the lightIt’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah-Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe