Every Scar Has a Story

One of the things I love about stories (books or film) is that each time I read them, different things will "jump out" at me. I have just finished re-reading The Odyssey, and one of the interesting things about Odysseus is how he was recognized (even when disguised by the goddess Athene) because of the scar that he had above his knee, a wound received many years before from a white tusked boar.

This uniqueness has me wondering about the scars that define me, scars both visible and deep below the surface, scars that have most certainly carved my character as much (or more) than any joy I have experienced. Maybe they're not such a mar after all. . . .maybe they're just another facet of what makes me unique. . . .and, apparently, more easily identifiable :)

The belief is, though, that scars make us ugly. . . imperfect. . . .hiddeous. . . .and unwanted. So we cover, hide, remove, and deny the scars we fear will make us too different from the rest. But we only end up silencing the stories behind the scars and deny who we are in our perfect imperfection. . . .

Yet I can imagine a world where scars don't have to be hidden out of fear and shame. . . .because they're celebrated openly and honored equally with the unscarred. A world where "normal" and "healthy" are allowed to coexist with the painful and terrible. Perhaps even a world where scars are valued as rightly beautiful in their own right. Imagine how amazing and powerful the people of this world would be. . . .no fear. . . .no shame. . . .just subtle reminders of the battle found along the way. . . .