Walking Barefoot on Scar Tissue

Being in my hometown last week felt like walking barefoot on my own scar tissue. I revisited old neighborhoods I had not encountered in many years. I would drive down a street and pass a particular store or corner, and suddenly a wave of memory would rise in my body, a palpable sensory memory. D’Allesandros. South Street, Germantown Avenue. Street signs I had not seen in years would spark a taste, a sound, an image. Creishem Valley Road, Phil-Ellena Street, Spruce Street.  Their names in my mouth like Scrabble tiles.

Then, perhaps predictably, I began to sense the presence of all the people I’d traveled with on those roads, in those places. What emerged from within and outside myself was a familiar, unmistakable sense of belonging, of connecting to my roots, all those places and people and memories that have formed my very being.

While I don’t technically live there anymore, on a deeper plane of being, the soul level, I am always living there, walking barefoot on my own scar tissue.

Who I was and who I am are constantly in dialogue with one another; in truth, those facets of self are keenly aware that they are one soul, one body, one ocean of memory and present and unknown future. All unfolding with the Mystery.

What memories are coming alive for you right now?

How are you experiencing them in your mind, heart and body?

How have they shaped who you are today?