Two Pieces of Glass
It was early. I was still in pajamas, bare foot, ready for tea and yogurt. I was going to reach for the measuring cup – on a shelf of the cabinet right in front of me. ½ cup measure.
And as I opened the door a glass casserole dish fell from the top shelf- having perched there- waiting for whomever would swing wide the opening.
Before I could register what had happened, the glass dish had fallen, smashed against the granite countertop and flying apart.
My brain awoke – my executive brain awoke- to splintered glass everywhere, my hand bleeding, afraid to take even one step as there was no safe place to land.
My hand was sliced open…my fear ignited. I think I cried out.
Later, I cleaned off my desk. And there, tucked beside my sacred resources, an errant quarter-sized piece of opaque white sea glass. A corner still obvious but ground down by sea waves and sand and motion from cutting edge to a smooth turn. Two sides angled, the other two diagonals rough, once a spear- now curved and lovely. A bit square, a bit free form- all easily held in my hand. My bandaged hand.
Two pieces of glass- one so sharp and explosive that I was injured before I could even react. And the other, a find, tucked away, smoothed out, transformed.
I much prefer the latter.
There are lessons in this – about both.
Flying glass comes at us sometimes. We are not always able to anticipate and prevent and manage. This raging casserole dish came from nowhere. What I could do was pause, assess, triage, take care and respond.
I asked for help. I am ok.
Second, we can prepare for these unexpected events but the preparation is not about the external “whatever “that may come at us. It is within us. Our task is to make ourselves ready by strengthening our capacity to activate the best in us, the wisest, the calmest, the most resourceful. Our task is to practice – practice pausing, breathing and waiting- for the next right thing, the next right step to emerge. Our task is to be ready to engage what is most helpful for ourselves and others. It is to hold back the reactive, unthinking, that can cause more harm.
Third, we can look for ways that these events can be transformational. I fished out one small piece of the sharp former casserole dish glass from the trash and it now sits beside the sea glass.
A reminder that it is possible, to take something hard, cutting and harmful and in a redemptive sense, make it an experience worthy of gratitude.
We do this by finding even the smallest of positives, of gifts, of possibilities in the harm. This is not to say we don’t honor the hurt or try to ignore it. And hear me clearly, there are some traumas so devastating that to ask for the positive can feel insulting and creating further harm. What I am offering is that if there is a possibility, then take it, to be open to other ways of understanding.
The exploding cabinet casserole glass incident happened very early in the morning when I was alone, awake and ruminating over an argument I had had with my partner. I had felt angry. And in the moment of the great crash, he came running. Saw right away that I was hurt. Quickly, he helped me bandage my hand. And he did most of the clean-up. I started to cry- not from pain, well maybe a little pain and fear, but mostly from gratitude that despite our difficulties, we were free to love and care for each other, to offer and receive. And after all the mess of glass was gone, we sat and talked and worked the strain between us through a bit.
I would not want to experience again the early morning glass shattering incident, or any other trauma for that matter. And yet…there it was, the sea glass, the transformation, the gift. I am grateful that I could see it.
Sea glass and sharp shard. We always hold them both. We are both. We receive both.
May I be as accepting of one as the other- both in myself and in an another.
May I have the courage to practice and prepare.
May I find the lightness of gratitude for both.