Using the bandsaw in wood shop - split 10 mm up my index finger. Cut the tip of my left thumb and side of my left index when cutting a branch with my sheath knife. Angle grinding copper to make a punch dagger only a few minutes work, young dumb, no PPE. Splinter in my eye - most disconcerting to have dug out with a needle when numbed. Got a poem about my scar lessons: My hands they are a tracery, a place to see, The lines, the scars, life’s etched on me, No gift for free, nor clarity, Or talent, not paid in blood. That once was riven, now freely given, For metals and for wood, to spin to win, For inks and string, for lessons now understood. “For every thing there is a price” Say those who feign to pay, Cuts now and then? Well such things mend, While knowledge never fades. For a price is never costly, When fair trade is freely given, For to think, to do, to make, to use, Is the purpose of all living.