I just came home from a brilliant Nathaniel Rateliff show at Everyday Joe’s. That man’s vocal range inspires both awe and jealousy at the same time. (I mean, how can you sing so low one second and so freaking high the next?!) Anyways, one of the lines from a song he performed made me stop and think.
You can’t forget a burn because it scars,
And look what we’ve learned from all of ours
Oh how beautifully true. How painfully true. My scars tell a story; not the wildest, most tragic one, but a story nonetheless. And I would be foolish to not look at them, trace them with my fingers, remember their names and how they came to be, remind myself to be wiser/stronger/wilder/gentler. But I would also be foolish to center my life around those scars, to live in the memories when there are bright, beautiful, joyous dreams awaiting me. My scars are lessons etched upon my heart, lessons that instruct me to go out on a limb again, fail again, cry again, learn again. It’s being human. It’s being strong. It’s learning trust. It’s audacious faith.
Sometimes good things scare me. And everything in me wants to turn around and run as fast as I can. Run back to what I know, back to the memories of the not-so-good. Back to the memories that aren’t there because there’s been no one to create them. Back to the scars. But the scars say, “Take one last lingering look, one last trace with your fingers, one last mournful sigh. And then go. Be brave. Stop running, be still. Walk towards the good, not away from it. And hey, maybe you’ll be burned again; maybe you’ll add another scar to the gallery. But think how many beautiful moments you’ll miss out on because you’re running, because you’re scared. Go. Be brave.”
These days, I’m feeling rather brave. And courage brings with it this crazy adrenaline high. It’s addicting. I want to become addicted to bravery.
…he makes me want to be brave.