It takes so long now to turn back the pages
to the time filled with most treasured memories
afraid to stop flipping back to them in case they fade
afraid to tarnish their edges too much with tears
and tender touches from oily fingertips
Current joy is caught up and compared
to the fiercest feelings of first experiences
forever falling short of what I'm hoping to find
can I never recapture that electric current
of overwhelming raw emotion?
Adolescent chemicals cannot be the only reason
for the deep, searing pleasures of the past
I'm unable to accept the possibility that
the container of my truest happiness has
already been capped off
How tiresome it is to live a life through
tiny sips from seasons long since passed
unreasonable to hope that they won't run dry
that stale taste begins to set in even now
as I pull from that deep well each day
I only pray that there is a rain still coming
to quench this burning thirst in my soul
fresh liquid delight to fill up my container
something to replace those precious days
that now feel like they happened to someone else
Trapped by the gravity vacuums of the past
where each of my roads diverged
left forever spiraling the drains
of decisions made long ago
Only able to follow a single strand of steel
from a once finely coiled, now fraying wire
the helpless feeling of never knowing
the full potential of any life
Intrusive daydream distractions
of the paths I could have taken
pull my attention in different directions
hounded by a ghost of half-hearted regret
Romanticized sadness is my birthright
an ancestry of aching hearts expands behind me
a common thread that connects me to centuries past
These inner tides are not my own
they stem from the swell that came before
and continue to spread outwards through spray in salty air
Or perhaps I will complete the cycle
and soak into the grains of sand on the shore
sinking back into the silent groan of the dense earth
The cyclical nature of all existence is too great to see
but I have faith in the feelings that flutter behind
the illusions of form and consciousness we cling to
There is a restlessness that rises with the wind
and assures me there is still more to be found out
before I find rest again in thick, inky black oblivion
I will be patient and pet my pain with grateful hands
gathering up life's endless surprises to arrange
like wildflowers placed lovingly upon my windowsill
Early morning mountainside
enshrined behind a gentle mist
fog rising from cool air
as it meets the hot earth
How many other moments of awe
have already slipped beyond the veil
of impermanent, imperfect memory
sudden piercing pang of vague loss
I run my fingers over the fading pictures
I've placed in holy alters of the heart
pleasures made sweeter by the stitches
of pain weaving outward from the past
Is it wrong to endlessly revive old joys
should I put effort into slowing the
inevitable erosion of time or
would it be more kind
To allow old days to disappear
and someday no longer know
what wonders I've since lost
along the long, winding way
Will holding on make me strong enough
to face the many difficulties ahead
or will a tight grip leave me too weak
to embrace the life I've yet to live
Old flames reemerging
to remind me of versions
of myself I can't remember
A will-o'-the-wisp in a dark wood
flickering in and out of awareness
how could I forget a whole person?
The haunting realization that
there could me more me's
I wouldn't recognize
It's impossible to see
potential holes in memory
it's easier to assume they aren't there
But that comforting fiction
has been ripped out from under me
and I'm left here wondering
How many past selves
have I already forgotten
who does that make me now?
Crystalline structures of familiar chords
take me on nostalgic tours
through the old forgotten caverns
of my heart's youthful years
Fresh citrus drops
that sting you with sweetness
refurbishing faded memories
until I feel transported
Through the violent veil of time
that contorts and distorts
the continuous current of energy
that is me
What harm is there
in having a snack
of the sweet, supple story
stitched together in my soul
To allow myself to believe the fiction
that I've chosen to cherish
and buried deep beneath the bedrock
of my being
The bittersweet bite of memory
never bothers me
hot tears and catching breath
can still feel like home
Permanent pillars of my past
are supports that assure me
some things will never change
a perfect picture of stillness inside
That will not cease to create
prickles beneath my ribcage
or train me to build up a tolerance
to the days that trail behind
When I find nothing but fear before me
I can always run my fingers over
the smooth shape of those experiences
that are mine forever to carry
A natural resource for me to drink from
and subconsciously stitch together
into fresh dreams of you at night
to fill me again with gratitude and delicate devotion
there is so much happiness
hidden in images of the past
looking back it feels so perfect
all uncertainty long since settled
why is it easier to love
this ghost of myself
and not the girl
that stands before me now
somehow my reflection
feels more like a stranger
than the pictures I have
of who I once was
compassion swells in my heart
when I remember that old self
I hold her to me, flaws and all
and feel nothing but tenderness
I guess it's always been easier for me
to love what is long gone
than to cherish the quivering truth
of what's before me
my memory has edited and cropped everything
down to it's essential goodness
while my anxiety projects only
unpleasant possibilities ahead
the past is the only place I feel safe
because it has already happened
nothing can surprise me or cause me pain
now that it's permanently printed in time
the present and the future
are stained with uncertainty
looking back it's easy to forget
that I carried it with me back then
still there is comfort in knowing
despite all the mistakes made
nothing can take those trailing years
away from me now
Focusing on the past and trying to make sense of my previous mistakes and experiences used to be a much bigger part of my mental landscape. I think when I was younger it was easier to line things up in a neat and orderly manner in order to create a story that made sense and gave me a sense of direction. Eventually it seemed like I had created so many memories, lived through so many years, met and lost so many people that I started to lose the plot. There no longer seemed to be a way to make all these seemingly random pieces fit together.
One of the good things about shifting my focus away from the past is that I don’t ever dwell on regrets. Someone asked me the other day what one of my biggest regrets was, and it honestly took me a long time to even come up with any. I’ve certainly made a lot of egregious mistakes throughout my time on this earth, but do I really regret those mistakes? I don’t know. I do regret the way I’ve treated a lot of people in my life. But even then, that’s more because of the way it affected them, not how it’s affected me. Although I feel guilty for being so cruel and selfish when I was younger, I never would have learned what I know now or become the person I am today if I hadn’t behaved that way in the past.
For instance, one of my biggest regrets is probably the way I treated my mother during my late teens. Part of me does wonder how I might be different if I had been willing to accept her support and love during some of my darkest, loneliest times. Still I think I wouldn’t have the perspective to appreciate her the way I do now if I hadn’t rejected and hated her all those years ago. Despite my coldness, I was able to feel just how much she loved me. Even when I basically threw her love away each time, she continued to offer it to me at every opportunity. She never returned my disdain or cruelty. She never left or gave up on me. Because of that time in my life, I now cherish her more than I think I ever could have otherwise. One of my biggest regrets still led to the discovery of truly unconditional love and the unwavering support of a mother for her child. And understanding just how lucky I am to have that.
Lately I have been feeling completely stuck and without direction in life. I keep struggling to move past this uncomfortable stagnation. At the same time I just can’t seem to envision how or when this feeling will change. Looking back at the past, particularly our own mistakes, can be painful, but there is a value to exploring our own story every now and then. There is a lot that we can learn from piecing together the seemingly disconnected parts of our colorful pasts. One of those things is refilling our faith that things might not make sense right now, but one day they will.
No matter how badly we might feel we have failed, or how irredeemable our actions may seem in the moment, you can never be sure the future benefits, knowledge, and value we may gain from them in the future. Just because we can’t see it right now, can’t even conceive how that could be possible, we can at least acknowledge that it’s happened in the past. By reflecting back we can recognize how some of our darkest moments eventually, without our conscious awareness, transformed into some of our greatest strengths, our deepest insights, our most valuable lessons.
Even though things have been confusing, difficult, and unsettling for me for what seems like ages now, it won’t feel like this forever. One of the scariest things is the feeling that I’m wasting time, years of my life, of my youth. But our time can never truly be wasted. No matter what we are doing, whether we want to be, or believe we are, we are always growing, learning, and changing. This time is not being wasted, despite how it feels. Periods of stagnation can just as easily be viewed as periods of incubation. This perspective might not make it go any faster, but it does make it just a little bit easier to keep going, even when you don’t know where you’re going or when it feels like you’re actually going no where at all. One day it’ll all make sense again. You’ll be able to look back and see that it was all necessary, that it was all worth it. An egg just looks like an egg from the moment it’s laid to the moment it hatches. Just because we might not be able to see or understand what’s developing within, doesn’t mean that tomorrow won’t be the day it’s finally revealed.
I often wonder who I would be without technology. Would I have less anxiety? Would I be closer to the people in my life? Would I be more present? Would it be easier to focus? Sometimes I can look back at my childhood for a clue to the answer to those questions. Although it’s hard to compare because childhood is so different from adulthood in general. I can’t tell precisely what role technology may have had in those differences. One thing that seems clearer to me than others is the effect technology has on creativity.
Before the advent of computers, television was the biggest hurdle to my creativity. I get that blaming technology or television is ultimately a copout. Nothing is making me use these things as much as I do. However, I would argue that boredom itself leads to creativity. To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I was actually bored. I’m certainly anxious, but not bored. I remember when I was younger, trailing behind my mother as she went about the house doing chores whining about how bored I was. It was that very boredom that became the catalyst for so much creativity. You’ve simply got to get creative if you want to find ways to entertain yourself. I was required to look within myself for stimulation rather than depend on the world around me.
I still have fond memories of the ridiculous games my sister and I would come up with like smacking a ball back and forth at each other down a long hallway in our house. Once we made our own Pokemon figures out of clay because my mother couldn’t afford to buy all the ones we wanted. When I was really little I even tried to make unique toys for myself out of construction paper and cotton balls. We were very creative and innovative children. Who knows if any of those moments would have even come to pass if we had our own tablets or smartphones like the children of today.
Now I can hardly come up with an idea for my daily drawings on my own. I can’t help but search for “inspiration” on Pinterest first. Lately I’ve even been searching through endless prompts for what to write about rather than taking the time to search my own heart and mind for what I’d like to say. It’s much harder to convince yourself to take the time to look within when there is just SO MUCH available outside of yourself to consume. Not to mention its much easier to scroll through Pinterest than it is to sit staring at that daunting blank page. In addition to that, it almost feels like my own ideas couldn’t possibly even compare to the creative content that already exists at my fingertips.
We’ve all come to realize the damage that constant comparison can cause to our self-image and self-esteem. I think it also has a huge negative effect on our creativity. Who knows what my mind would be able to creative if it wasn’t always preoccupied with what already exists. With the way we are all so dependent on technology, it feels nearly impossible to expect anyone to spend time cultivating their own creativity. Because that’s just it, creativity is something we have to practice. The problem with practice is that we must accept we aren’t likely to be very good in the beginning. It’s hard to settle for your own (initially mediocre) ideas when you know there are better ones behind a screen, a simple click away.
I don’t know what the answer to this problem is, or if there is even a practical way to address it at all. The silence we all had to face in the past was the blank canvas that allowed us to find our own inner greatness. That silence is still there, waiting patiently for each of us. Yet in the past we were forced to sit with this silence, now we must choose to. I fear that as time goes on less and less people will realize the value in doing so. Years of constant external stimulation will also make it harder and harder to make that choice even if we want to. Soon our own inner worlds may be lost to us completely.
Last night as I was falling asleep, I couldn’t stop worrying about something that, depending on the state of the pandemic this summer, may or may not happen in July. Even though that’s nearly half a year away, I was sick with anxiety about it. I couldn’t relax.
However, in the middle of my worrying, I had a realization. Why was a worried? Presumably because I feared being anxious or uncomfortable in this future situation. Yet by pre-emptively worrying about it months ahead of time, not only would that not change the reality of the situation when it finally arrived, but would ensure I was anxious and uncomfortable in this very moment as well. Fixating on the past or the future does nothing but steal the peace we could find in the present.
This train of thought led me to also understand that there will always be a time in the future to worry about. Or a memory to miss from the past for that matter. If we don’t teach ourselves to prioritize and be mindful of the present moment, that anxiety, that sadness, will always remain.
Peace is only to be had in the present. It is always here waiting for us, waiting within us. Why waste it? Difficult times are sure to loom on the horizon. But there is nothing to be done about them until they arrive. I always feel like if I don’t worry about things before they happen, then I won’t be prepared when they do. But even I know that is ludicrous. Anxiety and worry do not make you more prepared. They just extend your suffering. To truly prepare, it would be best to stay grounded in the present. To allow myself time for peace and rest, so that I may face the future when it comes with strength and confidence and a firm connection to that peaceful place within myself. Besides, who knows who I will be, where I will be, when that future does finally arrive? I will not be the person I am today, the person I am right now. I must have faith that whoever I have become by then will be ready.
So I will let the future come in its own time. There will be plenty of time to agonize over it when it arrives if I still feel the need to. In the meantime, I am going to practice learning how to more fully enjoy the present. I am going to give my brain a new system to follow. Whenever I notice myself becoming distraught over something yet to come, I will practice pivoting away from those thoughts. I’ll ask myself: How does it feel to exist in this body right now? Do I feel heavy? Light? Is there tension in my jaw? My shoulders? Can I release it? Can I relax into this body? What is my breath like? Short and fast? Long and deep? How does it feel to breathe all the way down into my belly? How does it feel to pause between inhales and exhales? Can I feel my heart beating steadily in my chest? Can I hear it pumping away? Can I feel gratitude for these things I so often take for granted? Can I remember that the future is not guaranteed? Yet I have this precious moment in the palm of my hands. What a crime it would be to waste it.
Protect the Innocent 