As summer melts into fall, many of us find that the sunlit dreams conjured during the warm summer months begin to cool and take shape into action plans.  Some of it may very well be an effect of the change in daily weather; many of us are at our most active in the summer and gradually cool toward a bit of a rest at the opposite side of the year’s cycle, so we have to make action plans to focus our efforts when our energy and time available are perhaps not as abundant. For many of us it may also be in part a holdover from our school years as young people, when the first autumn winds meant buckling down and pursuing success in school…or, for the less enthusiastic scholars, at least showing up to class.

If you find yourself changing gears toward setting and achieving goals, you might also notice a reluctance which some people have to facing their rough edges, their unfinished projects, their more distant and less straightforward dreams. Some people feel too overwhelmed, feeling like those goals that have receded from us in the past or been subject to less tractable problems in our way are more than we can stand to address. It feels too messy to revisit that again; we become ashamed sometimes, feeling like we aren’t where we should be and it’s more than we can face even to give ourselves another chance to achieve a goal. We feel too broken by past difficulties to try to mend our dreams for what could be. If you ever find yourself in that position, you might think about kintsugi pottery.

Kintsugi pottery is the result of a broken object being repaired using precious metals, such that the mend is not only visible but beautiful. Some people, reflecting on the things that have caused them or their dreams to feel broken, say, “I don’t like this way of looking at it. It seems like it’s saying I’m more valuable because I got hurt. Like my wounds make me more valuable. I hate my wounds. I hate my hurts. I wish they’d never come along. I don’t want this metaphor. Knock it off.” You have a right to frame your own narrative and I will never apply this analogy to someone who does not want it. For me however, the metaphor holds a different meaning.

I’ve enjoyed a lot of success in my life as a musician, a professional, and a person. I’ve also encountered a lot of hurt, disappointment, and difficulty along the way. However, I have very often found the grace to put myself back together with silver and gold. I’ve taken the time, I’ve gone to the expense, I’ve sought out the expertise from people who know this sort of artistry and science better than I do, and I’ve mended old dreams to make them shine even brighter.

The result is that I’m not trying to hide whatever happened. Hiding is not my thing. What happened is not my dream, doesn’t define my dream, and isn’t the end of my dream, any more so than it limits me. Instead it is part of the history of my dream and how I made it come true. The sparkle where my dream was once broken doesn’t make it or me any more valuable than before. Instead it makes visible the value that my dreams always had and which I always had. Nobody would repair with precious metals something that they felt deserved throwing away. There was always more to this than met the eye. The kintsugi piece  was always precious in someone’s sight. It was never just a bowl, just a cup, just a teapot. It always was something more. And although there may be many people who love to play the guitar, who love to sing, who write music, my dreams and my life path are precious to me. They are worthy of the silver of my time, the gold of my attention, whatever precious resource I can possibly use to mend them and bring them new life.

Jack Kerouac said, “be in love with your life. Every minute of it.” I think tending and mending the dreams previously fallen is one way to celebrate and grow my capacity for loving my life. I hope that as summer melts into fall, you can be in love with the process of breathing new life into an old cherished dream that is worthy of your time and attention, not because it’s such a grand, extraordinary dream, but because it’s yours, and you still love it. I hope you can experience mending a cracked or broken place in your treasured life path as an art form of its own.