Using a Hammer is Tremendous Therapy
Photo by Mirela Popaja
Most therapy is talking. And that’s fine - but using a hammer can be very good as well. Ah, what a sound ceramic makes when it breaks! I would definitely be an artist in another life, another dimension. I would sing traditional Bosnian music called “Sevdah” and use all kinds of media to express myself artistically.
But in this life, I chose the path of a therapist. Therapy is art in its own way, and I still get to honour that artsy part of myself. For years before I began studying to be a therapist, I wanted to dare to let my creative side loose and share my interest in trauma through art. Don’t get me wrong - talking therapy is such a great gift in our self-care process - but recent studies are now showing that art therapy and bodywork (using our bodies in the therapeutic process) are just as important as talking for holistic healing, especially for people affected by trauma. Our bodies store memories just like our brains, so it is vital to give our body space to say how it feels through movement, creating, being. This is where art comes in as a very effective tool and method of communication.
Hammer
Recently, I had the opportunity to dip my feet into art therapy with a group of young people from the organisation YWAM as they visited Bosnia and Herzegovina. We told the story of trauma and recovery with the help of the old Japanese artform called Kintsugi. Dating from the 15th century, its name means “to join with gold,” where broken dish pieces are glued back together and the cracks painted over with golden paint. The meaning and philosophy behind this art form is that the brokenness is not something to hide, but to highlight.
Each of us in the room took a dish and wrapped it in cloth, then the time came for the second part, the hammer. There was some hesitation - men and women around the room were a little worried about what would happen once their dish was broken. Others didn’t have that hesitation and went in for the full swing. Hesitation or no, the sound of breaking ceramics filled the room.
Photo by Mirela Popaja
Each person was now sitting in front of a pile of broken pieces that had once been joined together. We all sat in silence, processing the hammer-moments when life is hard, when we are damaged and broken and shattered. We felt an immediate need to start the repair process. But still we lingered - we can’t heal correctly if we don’t allow space for grief and lament over what happened (we all had different hammers) and the fact that we were whole just a moment ago.
So, we sat there in silence, allowing our bodies to feel the emotion of loss. I saw that some dishes were less broken than the others. That meant that some took less time to repair. Some required much more. And that is the case with all of us: we all have our own pace of recovery. It takes time. And it requires patience.
In our circle, we became aware of the fact that some trauma and pain are just too much. The hammer not only broke the pieces but crumbled them beyond use, beyond recognition, beyond a full recovery. And all this “being made new” as a piece of art did not make sense anymore. It would be far better if the hammer never touched the dish. I agree.
This is the part of trauma that I struggle with and have no answer for. What we do next when a hammer has well and truly pulverized part of us is beyond my human capacity to understand. In the midst of the dust and tiny shards, I hope and pray that we all find a way to recover to the point where we see the beauty existing in this world.
Healing
Then, quite suddenly, we in the circle found that it was time to repair our dishes, fill in the cracks and join pieces back together - for those who could. After the pieces were united, we sanded the little parts that were no longer needed.
Then, we dipped tiny brushes into gold paint and filled each crack with it. Every damage and disfiguration was now highlighted with rich, beautiful, pure, shimmering gold. It was so beautiful to see this transformation. Our ceramics went from plain dishes to unique, magnificent pieces of art.
Photo by Mirela Popaja
I love the metaphor of Kintsugi. Life is hard, and we will be damaged in the process - some more, some less. We all have our valley of the shadow of death to walk through. And that valley will change, challenge, or break us. But instead of feeling shame and guilt for the history we have lived and experienced, we can choose to heal, repair our broken parts, and emphasize the very places that caused the most challenges for us. Those very cracks that we wish didn’t happen are the places that give us the most valuable lessons.
Recovery
So, my prayer and wish for us all is to be aware of our brokenness, not to hide the cracked places but instead choose the road of healing so that places that were once full of shame, guilt, and great sadness can become true works of art. I call this the art of recovery.
This blog was originally posted at https://cne.news/article/4048-column-from-sarajevo-using-a-hammer-is-a-tremendous-therapy
Mirela is Peace Catalyst Program Director in Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH). Born in Sarajevo in the 1980’s, she had a front row seat to the breakup of Yugoslavia and the siege of Sarajevo and is now studying to become a trauma therapist to more effectively address the unengaged trauma in BiH. Learn more about Mirela here.
