cut. I don’t mean that I enjoy the pain or that I cut myself intentionally, but there’s something fascinating about a cut. Maybe I should say that I like observing a cut. Imagine me dropping a glass on the floor, a nice glass that has been around for a while that is hard to replace. Then imagine that instead of getting a broom to sweep up the glass, I try to pick up the shards with my bare hands. So far, this sounds all too possible. Anyway, let’s say I cut myself on one of the shards. The thing is I know I would be more frustrated at myself for breaking the glass than for cutting myself. Or ant bites, I hate ant bites, but I still clean up ant trails. And burns, okay burns are a little worse because they hurt more and for a longer time, but still I’m okay with getting burned. There’s just that little pinch of regret and then the, “Man, now I have to carry ice around for an hour” thought. By the way, if you’re ever being tortured and offered a choice of burning methods, avoid peanut butter and ropes, just some friendly advice from personal experience. Why is it that I don’t mind being cut, but I hate it when glass shatters or porcelain cracks or pages rip. That pinch of regret turns into an ache of regret a stomach tightening that lasts a little longer than it should.
Skin is incredibly designed for all kinds of great functions. Did you know that the outermost layer of skin is all dead cells. After skin cells die, they stay on your body, still attached to each other in a sort of hardened plating that covers the living, fragile skin. When you get callouses, somehow your skin reacts by thickening that layer of dead cells forming a coarse, even more resilient shell. When that barrier is breached, the circulatory system forms it’s own barrier called a scab, which supports the skin until it can fill in underneath and repair itself.The muscular system is fascinating too. Almost every motion in your body is caused by different combinations of contractions of muscles. They just pull, they don’t push, twist or turn, they just tense. The system of muscles tensing throughout your body can cause any number of athletic maneuvers, facial expressions and even vocal sounds merely by combinations of muscular contractions. When muscles are contracted often, especially against resistance, they gather extra resources to rebuild themselves, they endure stress by burning (literally) their energy resources, so they realize that next time, they will need to be stronger. They prepare for next time by strengthening themselves and bulking up for the next round.
The human psyche can also endure large amounts of stress. Adrenaline rushes speed the mind to superhero levels. A policeman under fire for the first time described firing several shots and noticing exactly where each bullet hit, which under normal circumstances is absurd. We can endure physical trauma, distress, torture, disease, death of loved ones, displacement, rejection, feelings of failure, doubt and lack of sleep, hopefully not all at once. Somehow, we emerge stronger than before. We survive. We get knocked down. We get back up again. We struggle. We suffer. We come out more prepared for the next fight.
There exists, somewhere, a breaking point, a point of no return. For a ceramic mug, it comes pretty quickly. Every little crack is a breaking point. It may be superglued, but it will never really be the way it was. For a human arm, a thousand cuts might be healed, but if the arm is severed at any point, if even a finger is cut off, it will not grow back. The damage is permanent. A pirate who loses his leg must make do with a peg. The skin and bone will not return. Enough radiation will cause a tan. Too much will cause a burn. Enough scraping will cause a callous. Too much will cause bleeding. A small cut will heal. A large cut will scar. Soldiers return from duty more disciplined and more prepared for the difficulties of civilian life. But sometimes they get post traumatic stress disorder and just can’t handle it.
Pain doesn’t always make us stronger. We’re susceptible to permanent damage. Life doesn’t have a respawn button. Our bodies and minds are not completely in our control. We can be overtaken and overpowered by any number of things. Permanent damage is a big obstacle. Invincibility would make everything so much easier. But the stakes have been raised. We’re playing for survival. But that’s not right, because that’s a game we will all lose. We’re playing for something more. Somehow, we have to lose that game to win another. We have to surrender to that darkness to see the dawn. The weight of glory comes after a “light, momentary affliction.” That light momentary affliction is breaking points and fear and death. But “though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” I don’t know exactly which parts of me make up my inner self or what a weight of glory looks like but I know there’s something in the body’s healing process, there’s something in the magnificence of the forests and constellations, and there’s something in selfless virtue that’s worth a lot of pain and suffering.
