\u201cThe\u00a0sweetest memories are the ones we weren\u2019t trying to make.\u201d<\/p>\n
– – – Anonymous<\/p>\n
When\u00a0we embark on a spiritual path, there are directives to forget about the past\u00a0and breathe into the present moment. I understand the concept, but for me, this\u00a0is missing a crucial step. Remembering the past can a powerful tool to make the\u00a0present a kinder and more compassionate place to be.<\/p>\n
I\u00a0was sitting at my desk in my office yesterday, wondering, Who is this person in\u00a0front of the computer? How did I find this house? What did I do to get myself\u00a0here? What did I not do that would have taken me on an entirely different path?\u00a0What comes next? I might live many more years. I have a friend whose father is\u00a0105. Or I could be gone in five minutes. It\u2019s the conundrum of living in the \u201cI\u00a0don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
When
we were isolated during Covid, I walked around my house, looking at things that\u00a0took me back in time. Remembering the past while I was in the present was helpful\u00a0and informing. I savored the memories that were triggered by a smell, a taste,\u00a0an object, an article of clothing or a feeling. A hand beaded eagle feather that\u00a0I traded with a Native American medicine man. A bottle of holy oil blessed by a
Philippine faith healer with whom I studied healing. A stuffed toy lamb I\u00a0bought for my mother in a hospital gift shop when she was recovering from\u00a0cataract surgery. A crystal collection that I gathered over time and made the\u00a0atmosphere feel cool and clean.<\/p>\n
Each\u00a0object tickled my senses. The holy oil brought me back to the Philippine\u00a0healers where I could smell the burning sugar cane on the plantations. My book\u00a0about Kenny Loggins brought back music he played for me before it was released.\u00a0A book I wrote about a legendary diva made me think about her idly humming one
of her massively bestselling songs.<\/p>\n
Perhaps\u00a0the most triggering of all was when I opened the door to my linen closet and\u00a0saw two pairs of pink pointe shoes with shiny satin ribbons, sitting on a narrow\u00a0shelf. I picked up a pair and inhaled the scent of cardboard, satin and glue. It\u00a0brought me back to the ballet studio. The scent of Jean Nate cologne wafting\u00a0out of the dressing room. The menthol smell of Ben Gay\u00a0we
used on sore muscles. We always had sore muscles.<\/p>\n
I\u00a0remembered lying on the floor before class each morning, clasping my leg with\u00a0my hands, lifting it over my head and pulling it down to the ground behind me. A\u00a0few days earlier, I\u2019d been lying on my back in my living room on a yoga mat,\u00a0doing the same thing, a little less flexible but pretty good after all these\u00a0many years. I remembered standing in the wings, dripping in sequins, jeweled\u00a0tiaras, rhinestone earrings and tulle tutus while we waited to \u201center, stage\u00a0left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAndrea,\u201d\u00a0my trainer called out. I snapped back into my body.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d\u00a0I said. \u201cI\u2019m here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had time traveled into the past and brought back with me\u00a0the feelings and lessons I learned.<\/p>\n
The\u00a0point here is that I think going into a past memory gets a bad rap. Granted, it\u00a0can make us feel stuck at times, it can stop us from living in the moment, but\u00a0it can also show us what we\u2019ve done and what we took with us. What we are\u00a0capable of, what we want to repeat and what we want to never do again. When I\u00a0start working on a book and I feel overwhelmed, remembering the past is a great
tool. At the suggestion of a mentor of mine, I framed the covers of the many\u00a0books I\u2019ve written and hung them on the wall as a reminder. When I look at each\u00a0one separately, thousands of words fly into the atmosphere and I tell myself,\u00a0\u201cI\u2019ve done it before. I can do it again.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s\u00a0as if a silent movie is replaying over and over and I start remembering\u00a0details. How did I feel when I wrote this book? Was it difficult or easy? Was\u00a0it some of both? Was I happy or sad? Clear or confused? What have I taken from that\u00a0time and used as inspiration? It\u2019s like finding a lost piece of a puzzle and\u00a0fitting it into a place in the present that completes the whole. It can inform\u00a0the now and show me how to be kinder to myself. There are things I regret that I\u00a0can avoid repeating. There are thing that I celebrate that I can take\u00a0pleasure in doing all over again.<\/p>\n
Past\u00a0memories have helped me create a kinder and more satisfying present. They give\u00a0me hope for the future. They can help me see where my wounds are, how they got\u00a0there and how to heal them. After making mistakes and acting in ways that were\u00a0hurtful to me, I can choose a different way to be. When I don\u2019t criticize or\u00a0judge myself for my past experiences, I can find compassion there that makes my\u00a0life a kinder place to be right now.<\/p>\n
Pema\u00a0Chodron says that the concept of feeling regret and wishing we were something\u00a0or someone different are acts of aggression against ourselves.\\<\/p>\n
I agree with\u00a0her. I use my memories not to criticize or judge myself but rather to have\u00a0compassion for the young girl who was trying to make her way in the world. I\u00a0like the concept of watching history morph into a different kind of memory that\u00a0will help us build a more promising future.<\/p>\n
Award\u00a0winning author, Tom Robbins, wrote, \u201cIt\u2019s never too late too late to have a\u00a0happy childhood.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cThe\u00a0sweetest memories are the ones we weren\u2019t trying to make.\u201d – – – Anonymous When\u00a0we embark on a spiritual path, there are directives to forget about the past\u00a0and breathe into the present moment. I understand the concept, but for me, this\u00a0is missing a crucial step. Remembering the past can a powerful tool to make the\u00a0present […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2648,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2649","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2649","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2649"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2649\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2650,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2649\/revisions\/2650"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2648"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2649"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2649"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.andreacagan.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2649"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}