The Other Skin

 

These lines from The Salt Path by Raynor Winn stopped me because of how well it was worded, and it echoed the kinds of things I sometimes think about as well.

While walking the Southwest Coast Path in England, Winn observes an old man taking off his clothes and sunbathing in the nude.

She writes:

“We hide ourselves so well, exposing our skin in youth when it has nothing to say, but the other skin, with the record of time and event, the truth of life, we rarely show.”

Isn’t that the truth?  We all hide ourselves, beneath layers of shiny veneer and cloaks of attitude; beneath masks and tasks of great importance; beneath glib words and pictures of perfect or near-perfect lives. We expose what we want to show to the world. And once we arrive at ‘the truth of life’, after decade upon decade of life events that bruise us and elevate us, crush us and uplift us, scar us and teach us, what do we do? We hide our glory. We conceal who we have become and what we’ve gained along the way. Because flaunting is for the young. Because who will want to know? Who will be interested in our stories? Who will say, “I am listening”?

Winter Woman

I’m not promoting sunbathing in the nude, although if that’s your fancy, go for it. What I’m saying, after listening to other women’s stories in writing groups and online chats, after hearing the layers buried beneath the years, is this:

•       Yes, we want to listen to your stories
•       Yes, we want to hear about the path you’ve walked to get here to who you are today
•       Yes, you have something to say and that something has value