Who and what are we? We are definitely not just our body or our mind or our soul or experiences, fears, beliefs, and not even our scars. But we definitely are all those things. We are dynamic and growing and dying all the time, even as you read this. But the scars, the scars can be so beautiful. I have never looked at them with such loving eyes as in this moment. I barely dried myself off climbing from the tub to start penning this.
We all have scars. We may be the victim of abuse or war or hunger or insecurity or “simply” unable to not stop worrying or moving incessantly. Speaking on behalf of all of us, how beautiful. Our scars make us real, make us human, mortal.
I finally get it. I have always known that I am a hyper-emotional, hyper-emotive caretaker. This has caused such confusion and dislocation since childhood. I definitely never fit well in a twentieth century male body. The twenty-first century is a bit easier for me. I am comfortable in most of my maleness and definitely my heterosexuality but the desire to just sit and hold hands with everyone I meet and talk about our deep fears and hopes and dreams and cry again and again has just never had a home. It has been something that I have always felt had to be closeted. It is so funny how the most beautiful things can feel so shameful and dirty.
I am listening to Chris Cornell right now. What a beautiful human (and an incredible voice). I need to sit in this space with Chris working through his demons and scars because it helps me do the same. I am so saddened that he was not able to traverse the dark spaces and finally succumbed. So many beautiful souls tenuously held together by scar tissue have lost their way and fallen forever.
I have fallen in love so many times. A friend, a relative, a stranger on the trail; I hope to fall in love again today. When someone feels safe enough around me to share a scar, even if only cursorily, I feel such hope and love and beauty. When we share our fears and joys and especially scars with another time stands still. Space opens. There is no hunger or cold, there is just the validation of existing and belonging and being human and being beautiful.
That is what art and music and poetry and architecture and sex and everything is at its core. It is the brave act of stepping off a cliff holding another’s hand, even if it is your own, loving all of it. We all have beautiful scars. We would not be us without them. We may not know what ours happen to be, we may not feel safe even searching for them, but they are there. And ultimately they are a gift as everything is. They make us us and they give us such great opportunities for growth. I have been privileged to have discovered some of mine and some of those that I love, often sitting together during discovery. Oh how beautiful our scars are.
Love your whole being. Love all that you have been and all that you will be. Love all those that you meet, even those who throw stones at you. Love all your scars and all those you are so privileged to share with.
Ray, how beautifully put – so lovely to read this – especially today. So grateful to have you in our life.