itches
my finger is starting to itch (i recently hurt it pretty severely at work and the skin is starting to grow back in). my soul has been itching for quite some time. i've been taught that itching is a healthy sign. it signifies healing. it means that my body is reconstructing itself in the way it was made to. but it itches.
i think about itchy and scratchy. that horrifying simpsons cartoon.
and about which came first: the itch or the scratch? my finger itches because it was gorged and crushed,both too extreme of actions to be classified as a mere scratch. and then mosquito bites: the anticipated horde of itchyness that will descend in a few short weeks. they itch before scratching as well. and then more so afterwards of course.
but in terms of my soul, i wonder if the paradigm is not reversed. i wonder if my soul itches because it was scratched. i wonder if my time in Chad, my small african adventure, did not scratch my very soul? and hence, my soul began to itch. to desire wholeness and simplicity and idealism and passion once more. just thoughts i'm pondering.
and then comes the real question: to scratch or not to scratch? (known sometimes more accurately as: do i have the self control to refrain from more scratching?) with my finger, i simply don't have the option of scratching. the bandage covers the itchy wound. but, i cheat. when i clean the wound i do my best to quell the itch with gentle rubbing and cold water. the rest of the time i make due with rubbing the base of my finger.
mosquito bites: i simply scratch. or dig an x shape into their center with too sharp fingernails. and when i scratch too hard and the bite becomes a scab, i dap at it with water.
but my soul? if i scratch my soul, would it not bleed? would it not seep my very passions and essence into the world around me? and, interestingly enough, is that not how i am called to live? by continually scratching the itch in my soul?
i think about itchy and scratchy. that horrifying simpsons cartoon.
and about which came first: the itch or the scratch? my finger itches because it was gorged and crushed,both too extreme of actions to be classified as a mere scratch. and then mosquito bites: the anticipated horde of itchyness that will descend in a few short weeks. they itch before scratching as well. and then more so afterwards of course.
but in terms of my soul, i wonder if the paradigm is not reversed. i wonder if my soul itches because it was scratched. i wonder if my time in Chad, my small african adventure, did not scratch my very soul? and hence, my soul began to itch. to desire wholeness and simplicity and idealism and passion once more. just thoughts i'm pondering.
and then comes the real question: to scratch or not to scratch? (known sometimes more accurately as: do i have the self control to refrain from more scratching?) with my finger, i simply don't have the option of scratching. the bandage covers the itchy wound. but, i cheat. when i clean the wound i do my best to quell the itch with gentle rubbing and cold water. the rest of the time i make due with rubbing the base of my finger.
mosquito bites: i simply scratch. or dig an x shape into their center with too sharp fingernails. and when i scratch too hard and the bite becomes a scab, i dap at it with water.
but my soul? if i scratch my soul, would it not bleed? would it not seep my very passions and essence into the world around me? and, interestingly enough, is that not how i am called to live? by continually scratching the itch in my soul?
yes, i guess the hard part is not letting the scratch scab over and heal once we're back home and far from whatever it was that scratched us... i have no answers here but i like the metaphor!
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