a hard earned heart

the beauty of callused resilience

My new work boots cut my heels.

Learning guitar made my fingers bleed.

Shoveling gravel left large wounds in my hands.

Theatre school ripped open my heart and connected me with the most delicate parts of myself.

All were delightful.

Now.

I have calluses.

Callused heels. Callused fingers. Callused hands.

And a heart both open and callused.

I love calluses.

They prevent sensitivity from ruining progress.

They contribute to your power.

Your calluses help you play, create and build.

Calluses are an echo, a footprint and reminder of the price you had to pay for wisdom.

When you meet a callused person, remember your own.

Remember the pain that you paid to earn them.