Sometimes, there is nothing left. Whatever was is reduced to debris. Broken and scattered. With just enough shape to cling to the memory of what it used to be. Cruel as that is.
At that point, it doesn’t even matter why it broke. The thought of having to figure out how to repair and rebuild is nearly as devastating as the loss itself.
Replicating what was isn’t possible. Emulation is just that. A copy. A replacement for something that no longer is. Something that didn’t stand the test of time, the world around it, or me. A monument to a memory. And somehow that is far worse.
So, I remind myself that ruin is the path to transformation. A chance to truly want and embrace something new without destroying anything to make room for it. Not a clean slate, but one full of wisdom, insight, and experience I didn’t have when I built before.
Ruin is a chance to keep what works and rethink everything else. To legitimately start again as an affirmation of resilience and the belief that from ruin springs new life previously unimagined.
And that is the whole point, I think.
Without ruin… would I ever truly dare to tear down everything I have built to make room for something new – even if I knew I had outgrown it? Would I ever be bold enough to envision the changes ruin necessitates? Probably not.
Ruin seems always the gift unwanted.
And yet, it is a gift.