Do you feel a little broken? Patrick Watson asks on a Friday night. Of course I do. Who doesn’t? I’m not falling into a thousand pieces, I am not completely broken, but for sure there are more than a few cracks in my being. Here and there. You can see the glue sticking out between two pieces here, the stitches of an imperfect sewing technique hanging out there.
I used to pray for a flawless life. I used to think that the more seamless, the better. That excellence path was mine. I was reaching for the stars, getting everything I wanted, one thing after the other. I simply had to ask the Universe and life was unfolding according to my plan.
I struggled to maintain that picture perfect. While it looked amazing most of the time from the outside, the void inside was unbelievable. There was a deep, deep hole, and I had no idea how to handle that. It wasn’t a crack, it was an abyss. I was an empty sea shell. The small animal that once had chosen me as a home was far gone. The only thing left was the ushering of the sea when you took the time to listen very closely.