Scared for Life

This blog is a re-write of the one I did earlier, a couple or so hours ago. I’d published in haste. Perhaps because I didn’t want to think too much about the subject. Scars. That’s scars to the body, physical scars. Perhaps also in haste because I needed to get to community tea and I was already late.

Dr. Charles who writes a medical blog attended on a young woman who in the prime of her life was in a serious car crash. Her story is told and it is disturbing, yet good to read.

It just so happens I have been talking about scars with somebody. I don’t find them easy. Now I’ve had pause for thought after reading the young woman’s story. Scars are so associated in my mind with shame and blame and fury and secrets and guilt and just about every other kind of negative thought. However, it need not be this way. The good doctor sees scars as having a story, sees a way to turn around the mind. Few of us remain unscathed. One way or another we carry the marks of our lives.

Once one faces something which is disturbing or frightening it ceases to have the power it once had. That is one of the blessings of meditation.

Now here is the origin of the word scar.

The word scar was derived from the Greek word eschara, meaning fireplace. Traditionally the fireplace was in the heart of the house, and around it most domestic activities took place. It was the center of family life and an area where children gathered to be with family. It was a common setting for injuries, many of which resulted in wounds. Eventually these scars became so associated with the hearth that the language used to describe the end result of healing became indistinguishable from its cause.

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5 thoughts on “Scared for Life”

  1. Wow, that was stunning.

    When I first viewed my big scar (after my second cancer surgery), I giggled.

    I’ve had moments where it makes me insecure, but mostly I love it. It helps that it’s pretty faint, but still I’m amazed at how little I think about it.

    Now I just have to transfer that forgiveness to the rest of my physical being. ;)

  2. …when I was 8 or 9 my younger brother, Andy, threw a large stone towards me. To the surprise of both of us it hit my cheek. Hard. I have a scar to this day (more a dimple now)which has served to remind me of my brother ever since. Useful since he lives in Hong Kong now! Tim

  3. Thanks to all of you for your contributions. It looks like Angie has found the web site where people are invited to write their scar story.

    And Tim mentioning his brother reminded me that I have a scar on my hand made by my brother. It is so faint now I can hardly see it.

    Yes Heather, forgiveness and compassion. And I’m not so keen on the New Blogger either. However it is free which makes up for a lot.

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