Memories can't hurt me

I've never tried to block out the memories of the past, even though some are painful. I don't understand people who hide from their past. Everything you live through helps to make you the person you are now. Sohpia Loren

On Tuesday my writing was inspired by memories evoked through reading Maureen's poem Consequence, at Writing without Paper, and Ruth's poem, The Past Speaks at Synch-ro-ni-zing.

Several people commented on the story including Ruth who wrote in the comments box, "I hope... the memories weren't too painful."

Memories are never painful -- they hold nothing but the past and the past is not real.

The past is only a figment of my imagination. Their nuance comes from the colour and tone I give them in my remembering and imaginings. Figment's of imagination cannot hurt -- unless I give away my power and let them run rampant through my mind in ways that hurt me.

It is a lesson I learned through the debacle of the man who promised to love me, 'til death do us part, and got dead serious with the parting. After he was arrested. After I awoke from the trauma and horror of what had happened, of what I'd done to hurt the ones I love, I discovered -- the past only has dominion over me when I let it control my thinking and colour my peace of mind in tones that disturb me.

Memory can't hurt me unless I give into it.

It was a difficult lesson to learn, but one I had to embrace, if I was to heal from that experience.

And that was the other element I learned about the past -- memories are healing, forgiving, loving when I pull the trigger on their power to disturb my peace of mind and let myself fall, in Love, with their truths, their beauty, their depth and colour, and, their teachings.

What happened in the past hurts me today when I let it fester, let it lie fallow, let it dig into my peace of mind in ways that disturb me. In ways that I embrace as 'truth' when really they're just judgements about what was, and can never be again as long as I walk in the light of my truth today -- I am powerful beyond my wildest imaginings. I am perfect in all my human imperfections manifesting themselves in the light of my being me.

Memory disturbs me when I give into its message of how... stupid, shallow, powerless, asleep, blind, young, old, tall, short, fat, skinny, simple, complex, naive, negative, (you call it) I was.

Memory pulls me under when I give into its insistence of how... stupid, shallow, mean, cruel, evil, hurtful, contemptuous, ugly, gross, young, old, tall, short, fat, skinny, simple, complex negative... (you call it) someone else was.

Memory hurts me when I let go of my truth today and fall into the belief -- who I was then is all I am, all I ever will be.

And that just ain't true.

Who I was back then, whether a child, a teenager, a young adult, a grown woman -- all of it pales in comparison to who I am today when I walk free of the past pulling me back into believing -- what happened back then, who I was back then is all I can be, is all that matters, is all that makes a difference in my life today.

Having lived the past, I have no need to relive it today in ways that undermine me. Having stepped through memory's door to this place where I know, I am a being of light. A child of God. The Divine expression of amazing grace, I let go of memory's trigger and pull myself lovingly into the light of being -- free.

Today, I love my past and the people who inhabited it in all their faults and beauty. I love my past's beauty, darkness, complexity, its pain, its sadness, its joy and laughter. I love its round and full contours, its deep and dark pockets. Its velvety nights and long dark corridors. I love its darkness and light. Its sorrow and hope. Its villains and heroes. Its destroyers and lovers.

I love my past because today I know the past is nothing compared to who I am today when I let the past lie peacefully in my mind. I am free of its pain when I weave the beauty of my life today into the tapestry of memory that supports me, lifts me up and carries me forward on a sea of Love.

Today, when I write of the past, I am free of its pain because the only place the past exists is in my memory. And memories cannot harm me, unless I let them.

And why would I want to do that?

May your day be filled with beautiful memory loving you into being all you're meant to be. May you let go of the past and fall, in Love, with the wonder and joy of who you are today.

Nameste.