Keep the Scratches

We all carry scratches - on our bodies, in our memories, and in the quiet corners of our lives. They come from accidents, losses, misunderstandings, and the sudden turns we never saw coming. These marks are not signs of weakness; they are quiet reminders that we have lived, tried, built, and felt our way through the world.

History, too, is a collection of scratches. When we forget it, we repeat our mistakes as if time is patiently offering lessons we refuse to learn. Remembering is not about holding onto pain; it is about carrying forward the wisdom that keeps us growing.

Repairing ourselves is not about becoming flawless. It is about becoming functional again - steady enough to stand, open enough to learn, and strong enough to move forward. A repaired self may not look new, but it carries a deeper strength shaped by everything it has weathered. In creation - whether art, ideas, or enterprises - this truth remains the same. Nothing meaningful is born perfect. Everything evolves through revision, failure, repair, and persistence.

The scars on our bodies, or even on a vehicle after an accident, may never fully disappear. Tools can fix what’s broken, but some marks remain. And that is alright. What matters is that we restore what we can, so movement returns, flow returns, life returns. What matters is that we rise again.

This is why the Japanese fill broken pottery with gold. They do not hide the fractures; they illuminate them. They believe something repaired becomes more valuable, not despite its damage, but because it has endured and transformed.

We, too, can live and create in this way-gently, truthfully, with our scars visible and our spirit unbroken. As As learners, as explorers, as builders, we keep the scratches not as wounds but as quiet proof that we have explored, experimented, endured, understood, and chosen to begin again.

That choice - made again and again - is what makes a life, a craft, and a vision truly whole.