Beauty Of The Mosaic -
Rosalina Chai
For as long as I recall
having memory, I've found mosaic incredibly mesmerising. Alongside the
increasing presence of grey hair on my head grew my awareness of how aptly the
mosaic can serve as a metaphor for perceiving and understanding the human
condition.
Mosaic is at once
intricate yet majestic. And it is precisely its brokenness that lends mosaic its perception of fragile beauty
- the space between the tiles is as much an intricate part of its language of
beauty as the mosaic tile itself. And isn't this true too of our
humanity?
Whilst there are
numerous titles out there extolling the necessity, power and beauty of our
essential brokenness, more often that not, our daily
interactions with our fellow human beings appears to be motivated by unconscious
"should-ism" that demands perfection of one another. What is it about brokenness
that we find so offensive?
What would happen when
we accept and embrace that being broken is an essential part of humanity's
be-ing? What would happen when we cease to label
brokenness as bad? What would it take for us to cease labelling brokenness as
bad? I can imagine one certainty ... more peace.
Accepting and embracing
brokenness is not the same as using another's brokenness to feel better about
ourselves. Rather, it is an acknowledgement of our common humanity. When I accept
my own brokenness, and do not judge myself harshly because of it, I find myself
capable of more compassion towards others regardless of whether I am aware of
the form of brokenness they've experienced.
Finally, it is the
coming together of many many many mosaic tiles that the meaning of its language of beauty
is expressed. We were not meant to be alone in our brokenness. We were meant to
come together, so that another form of beauty may be birthed through the
collective.
I would like to leave
you with this story.
At the beginning and
end of time, Truth was a beautiful glowing orb. One day, the orb was shattered
into shards that outnumbered the stars in the universe by one to infinity. These
shards became souls. Thus it is that each soul represented one part of Truth.
But Life intervened, and many souls believed that they were Truth, and so Hatred
was bred. But some souls held onto the memory, and attempted to remind the souls
who've forgotten.
I do not know the end
of the story as it is yet to be written. But I do know that when all the souls
are reunited, the space between the shards would be where the light shines
through. And that Truth's beauty would then take another form.
