Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree and Rising.

I have strawberries. There’s a medical term for it, but I don’t remember it. All I remember is that my lovers have always referred to them as “strawberries”—either with great fascination or great disdain and precious little in between.


They’re tiny scarlet freckles, no larger than the size of a pinhead, and I have probably a dozen hidden on my body. The doctor who laser-smoothed my childhood dog-bite scar offered to zap them off for me, but they don’t bother me and I’ve never held any animosity toward them, unlike with the scar. When I was a tiny girl, I was always intrigued with them on the other women in my family and somehow understood them to be a sign of womanhood and would say that I would have them, too, when I became a woman. And I do.

But getting dressed in front of the mirror and not yet dressed, I noticed one of the cherry-red flecks and distinctly heard the word inclusions. Not occlusions, as in a blockage, but inclusions. Like with my favorite quartz crystals.

I have quite a few crystals in my home. Some are perfectly clear and pretty. Others have shadows, phantoms, bubbles inside, and some look like computer chips inside. Inclusions, I’m told by geologists.

I’ve been admonished for purchasing “substandard’ crystals that have inclusions in them. I’ve been told that I should spend my money only on the flawless crystals.

Yet, for me, the crystals that are the most powerful, most energetically resonating, most stunning are not the clear ones but the ones with inclusions.

I’m captivated not by perfection but by the imperfections that make each crystal unique.

Life Coaching Tips

Then, looking in the mirror at my strawberries, I had to laugh.

I don’t have flaws…I have inclusions!


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