Honoring the Cracks That Made You
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Time to read 3 min
What is even a flaw? We use that word the way we use “mistake,” as if it names something we should have prevented. But most of the time a flaw is not a rupture so much as a version of ourselves showing through. It is simply the evidence of a life that has been lived, a seam where something shifted, or a moment when the truth of who we are pressed closer to the surface.
Even in engineering, where precision can feel almost sacred, the idea of perfection is mostly an illusion. Anyone who has ever built anything knows that everything carries its history. Every surface remembers the forces that touched it, and every groove is shaped by a lineage of decisions, revisions, and second tries. Perfection is rarely the point. Authenticity usually is.
We are not finished sculptures placed on pedestals. We are patchwork people who assemble and reassemble ourselves again and again. There is something honest about acknowledging the chipped parts, because they reveal a kind of courage that a polished, untouched facade never could. I am a latent perfectionist myself, but the moment I stop holding myself to the myth of flawlessness also, of course, the moment when things finally became possible again.
Kintsugi has never been about fixing. It is not the glow-up of a before and after. It is a celebration of what survived. A refusal to hide the crack and an invitation to honor the seam as proof of life.
Kintsugi comes from a centuries-old Japanese tradition of repairing broken ceramics with urushi lacquer and powdered gold. It reflects a way of seeing that values continuity, care, and the quiet beauty in objects that have lived through change. We were thinking about this while building a microphone commissioned by singer songwriter, Allison Belle. She wanted a piece that could mirror the journey her artistry is taking her on.
Her request opened the door for us to explore the emotional meaning inside Kintsugi, not as a practice to imitate, but as a way of approaching design with more tenderness toward what persists. We are grateful to Allison for inspiring this work and for reminding us that beauty often arrives through the very places that have been broken open.
What we have, even at our most scattered, is worth highlighting:
You can take what scattered you and gather it back with intention.
You can choose a gold that is emotional rather than literal, a reflective substance that makes every imperfect part feel like it belongs.
You are still here, still capable, still full of life and momentum.
The people who truly see you are not drawn to some airless version of perfection. They see how your cracks shine under pressure and how you have learned to carry your history with grace instead of fear.
As the Year Turns
Whenever a new year approaches, many of us instinctively start scanning for shortcomings, making lists of everything we think we should have done differently. But what if that instinct is backwards? What if the most powerful thing you could do is turn toward the parts of yourself that refused to disappear, even under strain?
Consider which version of yourself you might honor instead of correct. Which old page of your life feels worthy of tenderness instead of editing. Which project or heartbreak or reinvention you might finally say yes to. Not because it was perfect, but because it shaped you into someone steadier and more capable of holding the contradictions of being alive.
In the year ahead, the goal does not have to be mastery over every fracture. It does not have to be dominance over every flaw. It could simply be the practice of seeing what is already there, naming it without punishment, and letting it be part of your whole. Kintsugi is not only a technique. It is a softening. A way of seeing that restores dignity to the parts we once tried to sand away. It asks us to treat ourselves the way artists and engineers treat the materials we love. Not by erasing the break, but by choosing how to carry it forward.
A Gentle Note About the Kintsugi Drop
To honor this idea physically, we are releasing a single Ohma microphone inspired by Kintsugi later this month.
It acknowledges its own fracture line and treats it as a place of beauty rather than compromise. It is not meant to be a metaphor you must buy. It is simply an object that expresses a belief we hold closely.
Nothing precious is ever perfect, and nothing real avoids being shaped by time.