Reading My Journal

Over the past few days, I've read through some of the older entries in my personal journal. It's been interesting for me, because while I certainly have memories from that period of time, my journal entries afford me a clearer peek into the machinations of my inner life. After all, throughout our lives, each of us negotiates external and internal experiences; and the details and nuances of our inner lives, given their rich and mostly private natures, are all too often obscured in our memories by the wheres, whens, and whos.

Some of the things I read were shocking to me, given the developments of my life in the time that's passed since I wrote them. In several instances, for example, I could clearly "see" the origins of certain events and avenues of personal growth which have since manifested. In some cases, it was uncomfortable to revisit old concerns and troubles -- not to merely recall, but to reoccupy them, if only for a moment. And it was truly ponderous, having stepped back into my past, to lift my eyes from the pages and return to the present -- to traverse, in the blink of an eye, personal realities separated by years. 

I found myself wishing I could somehow reach out to my younger self. I wanted to tell him that it's okay to be confused and upset about certain things, and to not have the answers to certain questions. I wanted to tell him that "this, too, shall pass." I wanted to tell him that I know now that every experience in life, painful or sublime, is part of life's Story, and that we can and do integrate every experience into the fabric of that Story -- and that it is beautiful and good and wondrous. 

None of that is to say my life is now perfect, by the way. I still have problems and confusions and frustrations and foibles, and all the rest of the "negative" stuff that comes with the territory of being alive. But what I know now, in a much richer, more integrated way, is that my life has been, and continues to be, a gift. That's the undercurrent now. And what a gift to recognize that, and to have come to a place where I can affirm that. What a gift to be here now, writing these words.

I think we all need to be reminded of these things sometimes. That life unfolds ever onward, with or without our approval. That we will always have problems, perhaps, but that the nature of our problems is temporary. That, despite the fact we don't always perceive it, we can, and do, change (as do the shapes of our lives). That our cynicism, which would have us believe certain things about our nature, and the way life will unfold, is very possibly wrong. That each of our lives is comprised of a series of intertwining stories, which are inextricably linked to other people's stories -- and that none of us knows for certain whether any given event is at the beginning, middle, or end (or all three).

Thank you for reading today.