I have resumed the practice of spiritual reading each morning and mixed things up a bit by resisting my nature and waking up early to do it. Over the past several weeks, I have noticed the sunrise moving later in my practice. I now wake in complete darkness rather than with the first glow struggling to break over the horizon, the beak of a chick struggling to break through its shell and greet its first day. By the time I finish, the sun is risen, but before long I will begin and finish before dawn even ponders peeking out at me.
You might think I would find that thought depressing, but quite the opposite. Having spent my life in colder climates, the onset of autumn and the winter that follows is a reassuring reminder that rest follows exertion and renewal follow rest. Everything in nature works that way, yet humans want to believe we are special, not subject to the laws of life.
How foolish we can be! How much worry, hand wringing, and poor behavior at deaths and funerals that brings about! How can we imagine that we are any different than leaves preparing to let go, their tree resting confidently in faith that new buds wait around the corner?
As a people, we love looking back, but looking back is a mixed bag. The elderly love to reminisce, as I learned when I worked in long-term care. You cannot turn around in a long-term care facility without seeing a copy of a magazine dedicated to reminiscing! I have wondered if there is a hidden, archetypal truth in that folks with dementia tend to forget in reverse – the newer things first and the oldest things last.
As a trauma survivor, I have a problem in that trauma impacts memory. In layman’s terms, trauma is a terrible file clerk. Our trauma impacted brain essentially misfiles memories to make room for coping with the crisis at hand. Unless and until we address the impact of our trauma, it will seem to us that we don’t remember much about our past because our memories are hidden in the wrong file cabinet. As we go through the work of therapy, our memories gradually return because we have hired a new file clerk to sort through the tangled mess left by the trauma clerk. I know this to be true because I have experienced it.
For some of us, however, our memories and the past they represent become a prison. The door to our cell is unlocked and we are free to walk out, but we keep pulling it closed. I believe this happens because it is much easier to see ourselves as the enraged, offended party whose life circumstances are outside our control. The problem is that perspective, while perhaps necessary for a time as we come to understand how we got in the situation in which we find ourselves, becomes a self-imposed prison that limits and eventually destroys us. Many of us have seen the angry, red-faced protester screaming for peace, unable to move past their anger at past injustices to effectively work for the peace they deeply desire.
If we are going to be the change we want to see in the world, as Gandhi suggested, we are going to have to surrender our obsession with the past. To do that, we have to give up all hope of the past ever being different than it was. We can, and should, clearly state what was wrong about the past so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past in the future, but we cannot continue to dwell in the past if we are going to have a future. To do so is to leave that ineffective file clerk in charge of the office and continue to repeat the same mistakes, all the while mystified as to why nothing changes! There is a word for that letting go of the past, that choosing not to spend all of our time seeking to change what cannot be changed and demanding reparations that will never be paid. That word is forgiveness.