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In yet another lesson brought to me courtesy of that burn, I was inspired to talk about how interesting it is to watch my body go through the healing process. This is not about the healing magic so much as it’s about how healing itself is magic.

To see my body damaged is a little traumatic; all of a sudden there’s a charred mess where normal skin should be. But once the blisters started to come up and the pain went away, I got to see what my body is capable of. It was pretty awesome.

There’s something very primal about the need to pick and poke at it. Even if the feeling of the fluids sloshing inside is stomach churning the mere notion that a body filled with helpful and harmful germs can produce a sterile environment in which to grow new flesh under the damaged flash is remarkable. Slowly, over the passing week, the fluid either reabsorbed or steadily leaked out without me having to open it up. My body let me know when it was time to get rid of the junk by it just letting it go; all I had to do was keep up with a clean bandage.

Now, after all the dead skin has flaked away, I am left with a smooth, clean, pink scar. I look at it in awe of how horribly I’d mucked it up and my body just said “Alright, you dingus. Just sit back and let me handle this.” Usually, I trust my body to betray me; sending my period late/early, burping at inappropriate times, pimples, etc… But this time it came through for me. That’s the magic of nature.

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