His Dogness

Did you see that blurb in the newspaper the other day about the proper way to treat small wounds? Yet again, scientists come along and tell us that what we thought was true is not true after all.

I grew up hearing that, when you have scrape, you should cover it with antiseptic ointment and a bandage. After a day or so, you are supposed to let it get air so that it would heal better. And don’t you dare scratch off that scab.

Now scientists are saying that exposing the wound to the air is “a terrible mistake because it creates a dry environment that promotes cell death” and that wounds should be kept covered and moist. And, get this, “removing scabs may actually be a good idea.”

Such stories remind me that I probably know a lot less than I think I know.

Other times, I am reminded that what I have wrong is not the “facts” but the way I look at them.

I have spent a lot of time thinking that, if I had my druthers, I would rather be a musician than a writer because music has a more immediate impact and stays fresher. When a favorite song comes on the radio, it can instantly improve my mood. Over the years, I might enjoy a song dozens of times. But, no matter how much I like a book, I am unlikely to read it twice, much less three times or more.

The other day, I mentioned this to Elizabeth at the library and she pointed out at least one flaw in my thinking. We may not reread books but we all have nuggets of writing – a thought, a quote, a line of poetry, a particular way something was put – that we can enjoy again and again, she said.

True.

Which got me to thinking that I was inadvertently comparing nibbles to three-course meals. With a favorite song or painting, I usually give it my full attention for less than a minute. Sometimes, toward the end of a song that I really like on the radio, I will come back from wherever my mind has wandered and say to myself, “Dang it, I meant to pay attention to the whole song this time.”

But, of course, I didn’t. Nor will I the next time.

When I stop to consider bits of writing that require my attention for less than a minute rather than books that have to be consumed whole, I do indeed come back to favorite words again and again – and I continue to be nurtured by them.

Words put together a certain way can not only be a durable pleasure but also a helpful reminder about how to look at the world. Angeles Ariens distills the guiding principals of the spiritual path to four elements – “Show up.” “Pay attention.” “Tell the truth.” “Don’t be attached to the results.” I found those words so valuable that I (metaphorically speaking) started carrying them around in my wallet.

I folded up the article about scabs and put it in my wallet, too. I’m going to show it to my mom.