The wound.
A void of significant pain that we may choose to run away from and deny from every mountain top that exists. Living a life that constantly trips us up With its mirrors and so we exhaust ourselves with new tactics of distraction and up the game of blame and projection.
Or our wound is our identity, our focus. We place all our attention and energy on this part of our being that we deem as broken and declare to all around us, that it will take a Lifetime, if not many to fix.
And yet the wound asks for neither of these approaches. It does not desire to be unheard, buried deep, disowned.
Nor does it desire to be poked and prodded and classified the problem of all problems.
When we think of a wound on our skin, we do not keep picking at it as we know it will get worse, and we know to cover it up won’t offer It healing either.
If we create an environment around the wound, of care, love, listening, attentiveness, non judgement, no demands, no pressure. Yet gentle encouragement, the wound feels hurt, met. It has space to be breathe .
Our wounds are not excuses for us not to show up, to be fully alive in the world.
Our wounds are not our stories to keep and define ourselves by.
Our wounds only ask we own them, we hear them, and with that unique medicine available only to our hearts, we grow. ❤️
