It's
wood splitting time here at the cabin which means that a part of
every week will be devoted to splitting and stacking this years
burning wood. As I work through the pile, I have noticed something
about one of the trees. As the rings grew out every years, they never
made a complete circle. Maple tree must have been scarred in some
way. The vertical scar continued to be incorporated into Maple tree
as she grew. No more that a sixteenth of an inch wide, I would not
have noticed it if I looked at the tree, but now that I have cut the
tree into sections it is quite obvious. The scar runs almost
completely to the center of the tree. It must have been injured when
it was quite young. Even with such a deep scar, one almost as old as
the tree itself, she still grew into a tall beautiful Maple, as
majestic as any on the land.
This
gets me thinking about my own scars. My culture teaches me that scars
are something to hide, something that is debilitating, something that
must be healed if we are to survive. Maple tree teaches me that a
scar is something that can be grown with, something that is
descriptive of the past, but not something that has to limit the
future. I realize that Maple tree, without the scar would be
different, but not better.
Today,
I will live like Maple tree. I will accept my scars, recognize that
they have changed me, but stay curious about the ways in which I have
been changed. I will decline the cultural invitations that describe
scars as limiting or as problems that need to be solved. I will
remember that me without the scars would be different, not better.
No comments:
Post a Comment