How we pertain to our beliefs– how our truths can prosess/opess us! In point: “our wounds are our teachers” becomes a brittle one. Yes, I believe something inside that like a coal, or hovering beyond like a great distant height. But right now, the tenacious throb my knee will not bow to that language, the sorrowing grit won’t capitulate. No, it’s NOT my wounds teaching me not to blindly gloss over misfortune, not to reduce pain to a saccharin veneer. Nothing to do with that 😉
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