Violets for the Soul

An everyday epiphany – simple yet striking – hit me one Wednesday morning in a flash of inspiration.

Actually, it was more like a splash. A copper splash, to be exact.

My husband and I were in Cloudcroft, New Mexico, a quaint mountain village with an old West vibe reminiscent of its once-vital role in the railroad and logging industries. We had come at the invitation of dear friends to stay a few days at their cabin in the Lincoln National Forest.

The cooler temps and crisp air, the spectacular scenery, the glorious sunsets – it was one “violets for the soul” moment after another.

On the second day, we were enticed away from our perches on the sun-dappled deck for a short drive into town. Our plan was to poke around the shops on Burro Avenue on our way to lunch at the historic Lodge hotel.

Soon we struck out a few blocks from the center of commercial activity toward a charming cottage-turned-art gallery, aptly named Off the Beaten Path. “We really want you to see this,” our hosts insisted. Once inside, as our eyes fell on walls, shelves and tables bearing an array of eclectic crafts and works of art, we understood why.

Especially eye-catching were a number of freeform pieces of flattened copper reflecting shimmery shades of bronze, orange, blue, purple, fuchsia and gold. We learned that these were the creations of a family-owned business in Globe, Arizona, called Splash of Copper.

Production began in 2007 when two former copper miners had the idea to do something special with the local mine’s waste material. Today several family members carry on the tradition, contracting with the mine to extract the waste and working with a smelting operation that melts it at 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit. They scoop the liquid copper with ladles and “splash” it onto a cold metal surface. After each piece has rested sufficiently in a tank of cold water, the artisans get to work buffing, polishing and/or heating the copper to produce a patina that accentuates the vivid colors unique to each piece.

Intrigued by the notion of making one-of-a-kind works of art from what otherwise might be considered useless waste, we knew we had to bring one home. But as we browsed the options from room to room, the question was – which would it be?

There was one in particular that spoke to us. A textured bubble of metal at the heart of the piece made it stand out – different from the others, a bit more interesting and decidedly ours.

As I approached one of the shop owners to make the purchase, I explained how the piece’s three-dimensional quality had drawn us in.

“Oh,” she said, “that’s because of the impurities of the metal.”

And there was the truth I was meant to hear.

Not only was the piece of art we had chosen made from what might have been discarded waste, but it also was the very imperfections of that material that made it exceptionally appealing to us.

I began to think about the beauty of imperfection, and how we might apply that concept to ourselves and our fellow human beings.

We imperfect humans are, after all, created in God’s perfect image.

What if we quit being our own worst critics? Perhaps we might realize that it’s the mistakes we’ve made and the character we’ve gained along the way that lend a rich patina to our lives. That it’s our so-called impurities and imperfections, our quirks and eccentricities, that make us “us.” Maybe then we might embrace our true colors and meld all of our inherent gifts and God-given talents into one big splash of love, hope and peace.

And in so doing, maybe we might find all that we need in what’s already there, deep inside our perfectly imperfect selves.