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.
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.