Learning To Love You More




Assignment #11
Photograph a scar and write about it.

Pennsylvania, USA



When I was about 7 years old, I and a group of friends would go in the evenings or whenever we found the time to do so to a place that we nick named the 'Secret Place'.
It was so titled because we had discovered this place while exploring the territory near which we lived and we made a vow to never tell anyone about it. Thus we would sneak out to this place when no one was looking and even though many were curious about this Secret Place that we went to we were adamant on keeping it to ourselves.
This place was in a small jungle like setting not far from the colony where we lived. In that place there was a big banyan tree and nearby a gentle stream would flow.
The banyan tree had many roots on which we would love to swing and play.
We would cling on to the longer roots and swing from one end of the stream to another.
Sometimes we would just climb the tree and play on it or perhaps race paper boats when the flow of the stream was strong.
We would tell each other many stories there borne out of our little imaginative and wild minds!
Stories of heroes like Zorro the masked hero or spiderman or giant robots that we saw in the cartoons would come to life in that little jungle. There was nothing there to stop our creative imaginations. Preposterous though the stories were we would sometimes even come to believe that they might have been true. How easy it was to believe back then when our minds were not so conditioned.
I remember vaguely the day our eyes rested upon this root that descended to the ground from a high branch. It held promise of a exhilirating and lengthy ride. A problem soon arose however when we came to realize that it was too high up above the ground that we stood upon. Not ones to give up easily we looked for other alternatives to catch that promised ride. There was a big slab made of concrete nearby which was a leftover of some proposed building that was to be made sometime in the future that threatened to reveal our secret place to the world and worse yet eradicate it forever. However we were not concerned at the future prospects being creatures of the moment and in the moment that slab offered much hope.
It was not long before I jumped onto the slab to take the leap and try and catch the promised root. As I stood upon that slab I felt a flicker of hesitation go through me on the prospect of this dangerous stunt. It was easy to cut yourself on the jagged edges of the root not to mention what would happen If one fell to the ground. However I was not one to back out especially when pulling dangerous stunts like this. It was not something new to me. I had so many cuts and bruises that my mother would call me the wounded soldier. I wish now that I had listened more to my intution. I did take that leap and I had barely managed to clasp the root when my tiny hands slipped and I fell to a waiting rock below which struck me on myleft leg and gave me a mighty cut. With tears in my eyes I rushed back home to the arms of my mother. Soon I was in the doctors chambers and since the cut was deep the doctor proposed stitching it up. The very prospect however frightened me no end and every time he would try to get near the cut I would break out in a stream of tears. Not long after the doctor and my parents gave up on me and resorted to bandaging it and hoping it would close by itself with time.
It has been many years now and I still retain that scar from that incident. It is a poignant reminder to me of lifes recurring mishaps when one fails to listen to the inner guidance within. Had I listened then to my intution I would have saved my self a lot of pain. These rash decisiosn however continued into my adult life causing me much misery until I finally learnt to heed that voice within. Now I 'feel'within before making any such decisions borne out of a momentary need or desire to please the dictates of a vagrant mind. A painful lesson learnt but on that will stay on with me forever.