Scarred Once Again

A strange thing has been happening more and more often over the past couple of years.  I think of something and it leads me to this odd feeling that... I've thought about this thing - and written about - before.   Sometimes, I actually try to remember exactly what I wrote about the topic and I try to find it.  Part of the reason is to monitor how I have grown.  Or maybe to see if I have grown at all.... perhaps I have regressed.  I only hope I can tell the difference.

Let me start by sharing this April, 2020 post, initially titled Scarred.

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I took a quick walk around the farm and passed by the field where we grew potatoes last year.  To dig potatoes, we use an undermining implement to dig a trench and bring the potatoes up so we can harvest them with a little less effort.  The wet Fall found us digging some of the rows quite late, so we couldn't really do anything else with the field.  So, as I walked by, I could still see the trenches that were created during the harvesting process.  The earth was still scarred from the process of harvesting what turned out to be a reasonable, if not bounteous, harvest.  

I found myself remembering the efforts that went into planting, cultivating, mulching and harvesting this crop.  And, as we ate a couple of potatoes from this field tonight, I found my gratitude for the earth's gift growing.  It made me want to work even harder to "do right" by the soil that provided and it got me to think a little bit differently about being scarred.

Many years ago, I made the mistake of trying to catch a pile of falling drywall and injured my wrist.  To make a long story shorter, I had a major surgery a year later that required pins to hold the wrist in place.  After several weeks of recovery, the day came to have the pins removed.  Being a person who isn't terribly fond of blood or open wounds, I figured I'd handle it by looking away.  Instead, I ended up watching as the doctor took what was a normal pliers you might find in your own tool box to pull out each pin.  Today, I can look at my wrist and see the puckered area that covers the spot where those pins penetrated my skin.

My skin is scarred and it brings back the memories of the injury, the failed attempts to rehabilitate, the surgery and the eventual recovery to nearly full mobility.  But, more than that, the scar represents key learning that makes me who I am today.  This scar is a reminder of things that are precious.  This scar reminds me that there are people who will do wonderful things to help you to heal and be better than you are right now.  This scar reminds me that a trial can lead to growth.

And all of that reminds me to have hope.

Not my X-ray - it's just here to make the point.

With the current pandemic raging in our world, I find that I have spent more time putting out blog posts that I hope are encouraging and useful.  I have always hoped that I could use my modest skills as a writer and farmer to be a useful voice for a few people that might need it. 

But, I also find that I grow frustrated with the speed that the online world heals over.  It seems to ignore or move past anything each of us might do or say after a very short period of time.  As I contemplated this thought, I realized that this is not simply an online phenomenon, it's the way humans have worked for as long as they have been on this earth.  We have memories, but they are selective and limited.  We have recollections, but they are known to be faulty.  We have images of the past, but we don't always connect them to useful learning or appropriate change.  More often than not, they fail to leave a scar.  We have perfect skin in our remembrance, but that doesn't build the character that makes us better versions of ourselves.

I want some of the things that have been written here (or elsewhere) or spoken by me to become a scar that reminds you of something important, or something that helps you to move forward to something better, or reminds you to do your best and not give up.   In fact, it does not matter if I was the source of that scar - as long as it comes from somewhere.

May you find some music, a piece of prose or poetry, a sunrise or a flower, a kind word from someone you love ... something...

Something that scars you.  And makes you better than you were. 

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And now - we are back to the present day.  Or, at least, February 22, 2022 - the day I am writing this update around the edges of the old post.

I found that this piece had actually scarred me when I wrote it - and I carry that scar with me every day I write a new blog post.

As I read the older post, I rediscovered the reasons I continue to write and share on a nearly daily basis.  I have learned that the ways we communicate in this world too often accentuate hopelessness, helplessness, despair, fear, mistrust, aggression, depression, misinformation, and content where useful detail is removed in order to mislead.

My scar reminds me that I write in hopes that I can provide a little hope, be of help, and provide a small light beyond despair.  While I am a flawed human with my own share of fear and mistrust, I still write to remind us all that we can and should work to overcome fear and to trust again.  I can share what I understand with integrity, and by doing so, perhaps I encourage one other - or two others.  And they encourage one or two.  

This scar and the lessons that came with it encourage me to keep going until the day comes that new learnings from newly acquired scars tell me to move on.

Until that day... I wish you and yours well - by writing and sharing with you.