I asked a fellow writer once how they know what to blog about. How do you blog about things that are interesting to other people so that they will converse with you and grow themselves? How do you grow yourself through your own blog and do something that you find purposeful? Possibly the best advice I received: they stated that one should never write from wounds, only from scars. One should write about lessons they have learned and recovered from, not about something they are currently going through. This ensures that one does not give advice that is premature or misguide others. Instead you can then create a space of safe sharing where you can be sure that what you are sharing will be well received by those who want to listen.
I have struggled with this concept, mainly with what defines a wound and a scar. Life can sometimes feel like a constant string of wounds with a long line of perpetual opening and closing of wounds to the point that the scars and wounds blend together. At times, it can be difficult to find where a scar has healed over, because the pain of the current and upcoming wounds drowns out the feeling of the scars. How do you sort through these swirlings and find the distinctive scars versus the wounds? Better yet, how do you sort through being a human at all?
But that’s just it, isn’t it. You don’t “feel” a scar. A scar is just a scar. A marking that defines a wound in an area of the body that is now stronger and healed over. What you do feel is the lessons learned along the way. I think a better way to put it is that you have to stop feeling the wound. Amongst all the pain that comes from human existence, your areas of strength that you can speak from are the areas where you have stopped feeling pain. Or at least it’s the areas where the pain is fully understood, processed, and transformed into something new. At this point, we have a scar.
Now you’re probably wondering why I have gone into such great detail to describe to you the ins and outs of a scar. Get used to the rambling folks, that’s what I’m here to show you. Me in my full, rambling glory.
As in any relationship, we have to set boundaries. Here is our boundary. Scars and wounds.
We all do this. The public, outside world see’s our scars. At times they see more than that. They see what we want them to see. They see the image that we have constructed to portray ourselves. They see our battle scars (old, wounds), our bandages (the trappings of our current wounds), and our flags (the things we wave to distract and portray something outside of ourselves). We should never show our wounds. Those are for private times. For those that need to see them. For those that we choose to show for no reason other than to prove to others that they are there. We do it for ourselves.
We are not ashamed of our wounds. The point is that it betters no one to play with our wounds, open them up over and over again, or to put them on display. We should show our wounds only when it betters ourselves. The risk is that because it only betters yourself, few people listen. That is why we speak from scars.
—– —– —–
Sometimes I wish I would have a more profound thought –
but then again, I’m glad I didn’t.
– cause I gained something anyways.
To move us all we must go one by one.
They will bring you in when you’re ready.
And you will bring them in too.
So have your pointless thoughts,
cause the point is you.
—– —– —–
I have a writer’s brain. Thousands of ideas, thoughts, stories, jokes, poems pop into my head on a daily basis. Only about a hundred of them make it out of my mouth or on to paper. I have a leaky brain that pounds out triumphantly everything that it feels and everything it wants to say. Truth is my throat and hands aren’t fast enough. Welcome to my perpetual wound.
Famous writers and poets usually aren’t heard until after their dead. Are my lessons learned of any value if my life is still in process? Maybe not. An old man is no smarter than a newborn child. No one knows what they’re doing. And yet here we are. Reading, sharing, being together.
I hope to learn from those around me who are triggered by my writing. I don’t know everything. I don’t claim to. But this is how I communicate. Many of those who know me don’t speak directly to me a majority of the time. Many of my Facebook friends are passers by who know me through someone else or have only seen my face. Few have heard me. Even fewer have read what I have to say. So I open this line of communication to communicate with those around me. Whether you know me well or don’t know me at all. Read me. Read all the way into me. Say what you have to say to me directly or out for everyone to see. Correct me. Encourage me. Degrade me.
We have found our boundary. Now we speak.