Till next we meet – an internal soliloquyPosted: December 20, 2015
Memory is a funny and fickle thing. In the lens of my own recollection, unexpected memories rise. For me, each recollection both sharpens and dulls. Our recall of events is not akin to a video, but rather a video game. Some of them are amazingly real and full – if not somehow beyond even lifelike – while others from the same event pass completely out of phase. Like a pile of raked leaves in a breeze, you never end up with the same from which you started.
When you’ve lived in one general area for a long time, you grow accustomed to traditions, accustomed to local norms, local politics and local mindsets. Then a strong gust comes along and leaves flitter about and scatter. It takes much raking to bring that pile back in. I have an interesting way of raking those leaves that uses driving, windows down, and loud music – typically EDM or trance.
Like scattered leaves are my thoughts today after being strewn about in the most magnanimous and beautiful way. As the gusts lifted them, I watched each transcendent thought float in the air. Thoughts such as why do I tend to pick such hard-line perspectives of those whose viewpoints oppose mine ; why don’t I consider not only the opposition’s humanity and motivations but also my own motivations. Why do I feel the need to so carefully choose the situations in which I give and serve? Why do I not give whenever I have the means (which is nearly always), regardless of need? Why do I feel the need to judge if the gift will be received, even though I profess to judge the best gifts as being given with no expectations? Each clear statement a gust of wind. Leaves scattered about, I sought to rake them all. I’ll be raking for a while.
This is a good thing. We all need our leaf piles scattered to grow.