Memory is an invitation to the source of our life, to a fuller participation in the now...We actually inhabit memory as a living threshold...a crossroads where our future diverges according to how we interpret or perhaps more accurately, how we live the story we have inherited.
--David Whyte
some gentle like the sun shining through the trees
warm enough to enjoy the gentle breeze.
bright enough to see the beauty surrounding me, not scorching or blinding.
the perfect harmony of ecosystems that exist in concert and unbeknownst beauty.
some are like a ravenous fire.
that threaten the core of my soul.
singeing my heart and creating chaotic fear.
the path of fire has no mercy. no logic.
nor does it seem survivable
it destroys much of the familiar landscape.
altering views, vistas and, ecosystems.
others are cold winters of rain and snow.
often both harsh and soft.
harsh like bitter cold, me chilled to the bone.
loneliness. questions. frozen still. dark.
loneliness again.
soft like bears in hibernation
resting for the next big thing.
snowflakes falling and dancing in the muted sunlight.
leaving a hopeful glimpse of things to come.
still other are like the new growth.
after the fire simmers or the winter snow melts.
the juxtaposition of beautifully colored tulips
next to charred bark and wilted trees.
their existence more of a statement.
a refusal to NOT exist.
looking back, each memory is nestled within
choices, faces, and faith.
a pathway to today. to here.
a roadmap of how to fail. how to overcome. how to wait. how to stand.
how to move forward.
forgiveness of others and oneself.
mostly oneself.
acceptance of truth and power and love.
mostly of oneself.
promises to live into, stronger, more authentically.
alive.
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