REMEMBERING OF A SPECIAL KIND
Love opens doors that never close
I am constantly surprised how difficult it is for someone to remember how he or she truly felt in the past, regardless if it is pleasant or unpleasant.
Memory holds all kinds of impressions. We tend to distort them when they contain emotional content. “Memory” usually translates into the anecdotal superficial type that selects certain elements but does not shed light on the living texture of the experience. Parties and gatherings are a special arena for this kind of recall where we fall into dramatic portrayals of memories lived or imagined, transmitting vivid but flat detail. Feelings are restricted to vapid judgmental descriptions. It is entertaining and most people leave it at that.
The quality of the memory we activate has to do with the quality of attention or importance we place on life and the meaning of our personal journey. Superficial “normal” memory reduces emotional sentience and soul sensitivity, limiting it to intellectual associations and evaluation.
People who ignore feelings they have experienced, as if they held no more importance, supplanted by recent ones deemed “better”, always sadden me. As if feelings were things defined in time and space. As if current “relationship contracts” determined the meaning of our lives. As if loving someone fully and deeply could take away from the same intensity of love we can have for another in the present or from the past. Worse still, we excuse feelings by placing then into categories, so that no one, least of all you, can feel threatened. Love is love. Friends cannot compete with lovers, or lovers with the emotional involvement we have with our children. Expressions may be different; the feelings are the same. Disillusionment, fear, or a broken heart cannot erase the joy we once experienced.
Too many people become hardened by love or its absence, fear, instead of being emboldened to explore and honor the fullness of the heart. It is much easier and fun to be frivolous and forgetful, light, distant and conditional. This happens because we insist on equating the worlds of sentience and Consciousness that function in wholeness and in unity, to the world of matter and the laws of polarity. Wary of losing whatever we think we have or of appearing disloyal, lovers forget all too easily whom and how deeply they have loved and love others. Love is not to be judged, contrasted, compared or overlooked.
Love doesn’t happen all by itself; neither is it restricted to category. It is always a reflection of relationship, even if it is with the rising sun, a tree, life, my grandmother, an ardent lover, or my dog. It originates in me and because of me; whatever triggers it is incidental. It is the fullness of myself. Nevertheless, a certain fondness remains for the triggers that made it possible. To deny any one of them is to deny myself.
Love bestows beauty and makes everyone special; none is more special than another. To live otherwise is to dishonor oneself and the ones we have loved. It doesn’t matter if they loved us back, because love is not a reflection of merit due or denied; it reveals us to ourselves.
Experiences, or rather the nature of them, define us, and this depends entirely on how we embrace, qualify and remember them. Feelings fall into the category of sensibility and the realm of Consciousness. They occupy a quality space inside of us that defines WHO we are.
Experience forges the soul; it teaches balance and how to savor life. Unless we are a courageous human being, a poet, an artist, or a woman, we mentally close the doors that, in fact, can never close once we have seen life through them.
Proudly acknowledge all those you have loved, and yourself.