We have quite a number of various drinking glasses and mugs in our kitchen. But in the recent years, none of the glasses has ever managed to survive. I estimate that around 5 sets of glasses got broken one by one. My mother bought new sets just to replace those she broke. Her eyes recently underwent cataract-removal surgery. That was then the major reason why she could not see those seemingly invisible glasses resting on the kitchen counter when she accidentally broke them. Now she sees much clearer, and we rarely see and hear glasses break when she works around.
Glasses are fragile, easily breakable. However tough to hold liquid, they easily break into shards and pieces when they hit the floor. So I always take more care on holding a glass or putting it on a surface whenever I use them. Even with these unfavorable properties, I would still prefer to drink water on a crystal-clear glass rather than drink on a plastic cup or tumbler. Plastics are dull substitutes and they feel bland on my lips whenever I drink water. But drinking from a glass evokes in me a different feeling. There is a certain energy that glass vibrates into water. Holding it is like holding a special piece of earth: not crude, not rough, but transparent, subtle and liberating.
A glass of water is full of simple but powerful metaphors that appear to be so cliché yet still bear some undeniable insights. Is your glass half empty or half full? That depends on how we see a glass. While some cries over the missing half and others rejoice on what is left, I feel that I am more blessed to have the glass regardless of its water volume. I think I am not so much particular on what I would drink. For me, the glass is more important.
In this new year, to write again is a sweet return to that space, clarity and fragility that my writing reveals to me.
So I find different designs of these fragile, clear glasses important as well. The shape that was sculpted or molded into it. Its length and thickness are as important as its weight, height and elegance. As I drink water or any other juice from any kinds and forms of glasses, my soul drinks from their art. I feel just right now, that writing about a glass helps me to find some meaningful and symbolic lessons of not writing for the past months.
After 4 months, I have not yet written anything or care to update what is happening in this blog. I often likely to think that I have lost “half of the glass”, spilling them in those months that I have missed writing. I have tried my best, honestly, but the soul that writes through me seemed hibernated. It has sought some refuge in the quietude of wordlessness, with turbulent inner and outer storms I was facing within that period. I admit that my initial failure was to focus on what the glass can contain. I was yet to see that there was something transparent that holds what I can both gain and lose.
It is a crystal-clear, fragile lesson of truth. I have lost the time and opportunity of writing like a broken glass. It is impossible for me to bring back what I have lost, but I am reminded to find a new glass that bears the same properties: it is clear, as equal as my writing reveals what I bear inside me. It has the space, its most important part because it both fills and pours the wisdom. I can fill up this new glass and let others drink from it.
I have long honored my writing process, and such absence from this loop is not anymore regrettable. It follows a pace beyond the measure of deadlines or trends. I only know that I am setting a new beginning. In this new year, to write again is a sweet return to that space, clarity and fragility that my writing reveals to me. My reward is to fill and drink as much insight as possible, and my task is to happily begin again. I again invite you to share this journey.