“On the girl’s brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking: Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”
―Chris Cleave, Little Bee
What scars do you have that are as beautiful to you as stars?
I have dozens – if not hundreds – of scars. I used to love all of them. Then I had a period of time where I afraid they would limit me, afraid that people would judge me for them. Then I became more-or-less ambivalent about them. Scars from surgeries bothered me more; they felt somewhat like a violation as someone else had left their mark on my own body. While I do think about the still-healing scar from my most recent surgery, I usually don’t think about my other scars. When I do notice them, I’m fine with them.
Perhaps my scars (that I think I have to accept but prefer not to) are those that stay with me over periods of time and are scars of the mind. Dreams I have had about accomplishing creative results of those dreams in areas of painting, designing, writing, storytelling and music have persistently stayed with me over a lifetime. Perhaps they are beautiful to others who see, hear or listen to my efforts. That is a wonderful thought and I try to accept it. However, I often find myself thinking I could do better; I could be recognized at a higher level of accomplishment. I wonder if this is all on my mind. Those who have my paintings, for instance, tell me how much they enjoy having them; others tell me at the fellowship that they like my results as a Sunday morning pianist; the children I told stories to laughed and smiled. I’ve self- published a set of Haiku poems that people have read and said they liked. In very few instances, however, have I received professional recognition. Perhaps I myself can’t see the “stars shining around”… or am not willing to be bolder in seeking them??
I have a scar on my chin from when I fell off a counter when I was a baby. (And my mom–who was new to the whole mothering thing–learned not to turn her back even for a second on a baby sitting on a counter.)
I’ve had this scar for longer than I can remember, and I don’t think I’d be the same without it. Even if it could be repaired (I’m guessing it could), I wouldn’t want to do it. Maybe it “adds character”, or maybe I’m just used to it being there.
Powerful, liberating concept. Thank you. Some scars are physical and some are emotional, and the emotional scars can be visible too, often as tears. The grief counseling materials I received when my father died included advice to “Be grateful for your tears because they mean you have loved.” I think that applies not just to tears of grief for death, but to tears which come from all sorts of pain we experience. Taking this concept to a deeper yet more generic place, we can be grateful for that part of us which is the ability to empathize and be compassionate for whatever situation brings us — or brings someone else — to tears, to anger, to shame, and so on. In recognizing that capacity, we recognize that we are alive, we are surviving.
Very true, Anna. Thanks for your comment. Another instance of tears coming unexpectedly happened to me recently. I was in an audience of those listening to a magnificent pianist playing well known older tunes which suddenly brought back my mixed sad but grateful tearful response that I’d been carrying around a long time. Reliving that time from long ago was a relief.