Reflection On Wounds
“From our deepest wounds come our greatest gifts”
- Po Bronson, What Should I Do With My Life
I started reading this book again. It’s surprisingly honest and engaging. Refreshing even. Argh, I sound like some scary mark-comm writer. Still, the sentence above struck me. And as I write it, it gets me thinking again…
Possibly also because of the wider context. I am focusing some energy back towards my family-story project and it takes me to darker places. To wounds. And yet some of these dark places have also given me access to amazing gifts. Of stories.
Of voice. And finding my own.
The first story I ever told as a teller was one that I had learned by accident while looking for a quote to honour my Grandfather in death, in his eulogy.
Of connection. Of the gift of helping other’s release their own stories. Of making peace with the past. Of courage. Hell, I’m even learning silence!
What are the gifts that have come out of your wounds?
On the image:
I was looking for an image and thought of Sap – and maple syrup, a lovely gift from a ‘wounded’ tree. happy autumn/fall for those of you in the Nth (to my Southern Hemisphere friends, esp in Oz, happy Spring)
source: light on a maple tree (c) denis colette thanks flickr!
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