seafield

seafield

I was called back to the sea tonight.  Where so much of who I am began.  Where I stood on a pier.  Unafraid.  Facing the vastness of the life before me.   I met love there.  I met spirit.  Life.  I met me.  It’s time to go home.  and meet me again.

Advertisements

the power of memory and thanks to the Pogues

buskers

I’ve been considering my past a lot.  Thinking I could decide what memories to keep and what ones to let go of… as if I have a choice.  The truth is, they seem to come and go depending on certain triggers, and the only thing I can really “decide” is how I let them affect me and with how much power.  The more negative memories I have been deliberately trying to learn from and let drop.  But there have been some good ones lately that I have been spending a little more time in.  For instance, I made it through my first spinning class yesterday.  Yes.  ouch.  And as I was peddling away, sandwiched between my twenty-something, militarily trained niece and Central Ohio’s version of Lance Armstrong, I was feeling more than a little challenged. Then the music changed.  And Shane MacGowan’s voice connected with a strong independent younger spirit called me at twenty-two.   I finished the class.  All 40 minutes.  But only because the last fifteen or so were spent walking around the city of Dublin.   I don’t think that’s living in the past really.  Just, for a few minutes, in whatever small way, letting my past help me live now.