We Become Instruments of Healing According to the Nature of Our Wounds
Weekend prompt

Thank you, 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. for this irresistible, well-crafted prompt.
This prompt blew my mind. I read it over and over, and each time, its meaning sank deeper into my psyche, unearthing its essence layer by layer.
As a rule, I never write and publish off the cuff but hey, there’s a first time for everything and this prompt is too juicy to pass up.
Cheers to stream of consciousness creations!
Not everybody chooses to become an instrument of healing, but it’s the worthiest path I can think of. It’s also the darkest and most humbling.
If you stare into the mirror long enough, your features morph. You no longer recognize yourself for who you are. It’s the perfect reflection of a human lifespan.
The longer you live, the more you see, and the less you recognize who you used to be. The shift is mostly gradual. Of course, sudden events can rip away the fabric of your being too. But subtle shifts are more sneaky.
Some bandy their pain about like a badge of honor, proof they’ve endured and live to tell. Others hide their pain, stow it away from the light of day where the glare is too much to assimilate.
Then there are the brave souls who dare peer beneath the bandages to see if their wounds look the same. Have they grown or even shrunk, perhaps?
I often reference a quote by the great Persian mystic poet Rumi because it captures healing and the human experience exquisitely.
The wound is the place the light enters you.
— Rumi
This collection of 9 words is both powerful and empowering beyond measure. It’s the alpha and the omega. I am a pro spiritual nomad, as I used to carry my pain far and wide, but no more.
The weight is too brutish to bear, crushing my physical into the Earth’s crust and the lightness from my spirit.
How long can you carry your burdens without respite? How long before they dilute your essence and cut you off from crucial life force?
Only you can answer.
The wheel of samsara spins on.
The choice to become an instrument of healing according to the nature of your wounds is yours to make. Peace be upon you.
If you like this, you may fancy this:






