Inspired posts to inspire growth
I find simplicity in contemplating birds. When a bird takes flight, does it ever consider life before wings? What then becomes of the nest? Or mama bird and papa bird? Or the other fledglings who comprised the infantile “hood?”
I imagine a bird flies into the future until the day it dies. Never once pausing on life “as it used to be”– an amalgamation of dawn squawking and regurgitated annelids.
If only it were so simple for us humans. We keep our nest inexplicably tethered to our hip. Our past– memories, relationships, wounds– comes with us wherever we go.
It is often this past which gives us our often inescapable sense of identity. A past whose stories dictate the script that runs through our heads.
This is our culture– the stories we tell ourselves.
Yet, what I find interesting, as Sasha and I are amidst a 3 month sojourn into our homeland– is that the script often isn’t what we think it is. Or rather…we tend to take an angle on matters– an opinion which becomes “our truth”, that is only “true” because we keep telling ourselves it is. Our attachment to a perspective inhibits our ability to see things any other way.
And we tend to exaggerate those memories, either for the traumatic or nostalgic influence they propagate.
After 3 years of life in Indonesia, I see my past differently. The dramas in my mind don’t seem so dramatic. The influences which shaped me, which I associated with “me”, have assumed a different role.
Physically walking through the park where I played Little League, I see beautiful trees shedding their leaves. I see the present for what it is– another moment in time, detached from the moments that preceded it.
Five years ago I couldn’t even see this park. I couldn’t see it because my “return home” was often a matter of confrontation between me and the “historical me”– a tussle between the person I’d become and the person I used to be; a present “me” struggling to integrate my memories into my present reality.
I credit the time frame for this “awakening” to the natural process of the healing journey. Everything in it’s right place, and transformation is not a process that can be forced– it’s rather one that transpires organically through acceptance.
Why is this important?
As is captured so dramatically in the film “Crash”, perspective is a bit of a game– a toy to be played with. If we can find the courage to look at the world differently, we can generate compassion for others, and our story takes on a different tone. If we can accept our past, we heal it, and then– and only then– may we evolve.
Our information diet (which we tend to hold in such high regard) is a restrictive pursuit. It forces us to take a perspective, for which the ego refuses to let go. There is no prescriptive cure for such an ill. To each their own, but as is the case with many things– awareness is an important step. Once we become aware, we can begin to shed light on the darkness.
Perhaps, it is a collective “letting go” which the world requires more than anything. Let go of our political opinions. Let go of our violent past. Let go of our economic system. Let go of our fear.