Cracks define the beauty that distinguishes each of us.
They are the most easily discernible features of any surface. Red earth stands out clearer on either side of a blue river. Lightening intensifies a black sky. The grain running along wood separates oak from walnut.
People have cracks. The damage is the story we remember about them.
There’s no stronger type of skin than scar tissue. Callouses mark hands where strain is endured, breaks in bone heal and rarely break there again.
We have learned to conjure this biological magic. Strength training is a methodical practice of breaking ourselves, healing, and emerging greater.
The gashes that run across a lifetime shake us, inspire us to fight, and spur us to heal. Trauma marks the moments that ignite us to survive.
The gathered strength from healed wounds powers flight. The intricate design of past pains wraps around the legs of life as they drive forward with force, the force derived from those very pains.
This is my imagined rendition of the Japanese art form called kintsugi.
Kintsugi is the repair of broken pottery using gold-laced lacquer. The mended bowl, with shining traces of damage, is thought to hold greater beauty than its original, virgin form.
I am here because of the scars that mark me.
I am perpetually curious about food, strength training, and mind cultivation. Not because I’ve found the answers at the beginning. Not because I was always happy, pain free, and clear minded and strong.
But because it took so long for me to acknowledge my pain. And to figure out how to mend the wounds. And because I am searching for wellness in every corner of life.
We learn to thrive, shaped by moments close to death. Experiences of hell. We don’t have to forget the hurt. We can appreciate that we are different, unique, reformed by it.
We are free to seek truth and live in wellness. We don’t have to hide our scars. We are our scars. And that makes us wondrous to behold.
Thanks for the inspiration Ted.