To love your fate is to recognize that your life is an indivisible whole, a tightly woven tapestry in which no thread can be removed without distorting the entire pattern. If you reject a single event, a single relationship, a single failure, symbolically refuse the life that has been shaped through them.
Ali Mattar, Fate
In Fate, Ali Mattar passionately argues a case for Amor fati, the love of one’s fate. This perspective requires recognition that all life experiences come together to make the whole. While we might wish to set aside parts of our past (the pain, the mistakes, the failures), this denial only weakens the whole life. But let’s face it, when you are in the drink, it’s pretty damn hard to cling to the amor.
I distinctly remember the first time I saw a Kintsugi pot — the delicate threading of gold lacquer securely bonding a once-broken Japanese tea bowl. I felt a deep relief at the thought that repair could be transformative, so exquisitely beautiful — scars exalted. In a world of flawless skin and straight A’s, my younger self was hungry for the grace found in skinned knees and spilled milk. In addition to the kintsugi artists’ aptitude and skill, they possess a vision for seeing the whole anew. How do we gain this sight — cultivate the ability to fit pieces together to make (not the old vessel) but the reformed container that holds a new purpose?
In this collection of letters to the younger self, our writers site the spiritual and religious anchors that have guided them when they have felt like shards of a human. They argue for prayer, study, and faith. And they reenforce the ever-present need for community, acknowledging that they come to the circle imperfectly formed.
Albert Wright writes: As you travel along your path, you will become lost. You will find yourself in dark places — places that you never knew existed or thought you’d be in. It’s okay, though. These moments will become defining; they will reshape the core of you. And that is what must happen. Unfortunately, there is no other way for you to learn the lessons you must in order for you to understand your purpose and to figure out your vision. And, when you do you will experience a deeper sense of self than you ever had before. You will start to awaken from your nightmare and see the new path that lays ahead. Take it with determination. Take it intentionally. For there you will find genuine authenticity, humility, and integrity — three core values, I hold dear.
Thomas Derr writes: One thing I can say to you is learn to read. Learn to read well. Learn to read of heaven; safely tread through hell. Read of lofty flight, of worlds that might have been. For these are our creations; worlds that you, too, can create. Read of our fragmented selves in the book “No Bad Parts” – could it be true? A guide to befriending those isolated, detached self-identities back into a whole. A whole internal family of a loving, playful soul. And read of how traumas bury themselves to the bone in the book “The Body Keeps the Score”. Read of heavens sought for in silence through the sages of Contemplative Prayer – Father Thomas Merton, St. John of the Cross, Father Thomas Keating’s Intimacy with God”. Read them and many more.
Elijah Williams sits himself down for a talkin’ to: Remember, the only person/persons who will never turn on you is God who needs to be #1 and #2 yourself. Once you get that down, you’ll save yourself a lot of heartbreak.
And from our constant gardner Jai: I also know that your current sense of loneliness hurts worse than a broken leg, or an abscessed tooth. You are tribal in nature and purpose and I know the huge heart you have for the people, that you’re geared toward connection and community. That nagging sense of being lost and these feelings of hopelessness, currently finding no belonging are actually the fingerprints of God in your life. As strange as that sounds now, one day you will come to know that these are the instincts and passions that drive you to build and create community wherever you go throughout your life.
As I read about Jai’s tribal nature, I imagine the souls in his circle fitting together to make a larger whole. Brains fire in such unique ways that carving a path between words and understanding feels nothing short of a miracle. In this vision, the connective mortar between these beings may be a shared vision or values. Stepping the metaphor a bit closer, I think of a great collaborator as a person who complements my tendencies, my skills. For example, I have been known to fuss over an email (or these posts!) — writing and rewriting to hone my message. Whereas Danny might just pick up the phone and start the conversation. From time to time, this fit feels imperfect (uhm, we could use a little extra lacquer to fill the cracks), but the differences between our impulses allows us to grow our work and our selves a little further every day. | TDS