Broken

He said, "Don't you know that I'm broken?" You responded, "We're ALL broken."

Broken.Broken.Broken.Broken.BroKen.BrokeN.

The word echoes and reverberates in the energy between us and radiates outward looking for a place to land. Like a buzzing bloodthirsty mosquito it hovers around my aura looking for a place to light, sting, suck, welt me. Making a thorough assessment of my memory banks and history, Broken shrugs and moves along.

Broken has the tendency to imply defective and unwanted. We tend to cast broken things aside and dismiss them. We toss Broken things down the basement stairs or out the back door thinking we'll take them to the dump later; maybe. Maybe we do. Maybe we don't. The dump won't even take some Broken things. Ever seen a television on the side of the road as you're driving along? How about an old mattress or December's Christmas tree? Broken tends to imply unwanted or, at best, no longer wanted.

Then I think about all the things that are broken that we revel in and wouldn't quite be the same if they weren't Broken. Things like coconuts, geodes, avocados and pinatas. We break into song or laughter. We break into a piggy bank to roll up the coins for a trip or a toy or a dinner. We break from a huddle to play football and we break bread to celebrate family.

So, "Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free."

Rumi (Translation by Coleman Barks)