Connecting The Past To The Present
It can be difficult to let go of the past. After all, it’s all we’ve known. It can feel intimidating to face the future. So much is undefined.
But trying to remain in the past is also scary. Living in the past means we run the risk of separating our mind from our body, sometimes so much so that they forget how to communicate with one another.
While our body sits firmly in the now, our mind and heart continue to try and stretch across time. But if we wish to honor the past, we must let go of the tension that arises from trying to be in two places at once.
“We must let go of the tension that arises from trying to be in two places at once.”
Growing up, this week was always a big one for my family. My dad’s birthday and my adoption day fall two days apart. I was his bleated birthday gift. In the small town where I grew up, there was an arts festival every Memorial Day weekend. It always felt like an extension of our celebration.
Kettle corn, local artisans, musicians and performers from around the world. It was one of our family’s favorite traditions. We felt at home, seen, invigorated and inspired. My dad and I would dance to the live music of Zimbabwe or learn a new skill in some creative workshop.
There’d be elephant ears and strawberry shortcake on the menu, and evening performances would keep us out late into the night. By the end of Memorial Day weekend my cheeks would hurt from smiling and my feet would throb from hours of dancing.
It never occurred to me that things would ever change, that we would stop being the family that “lived” at the arts festival. I guess you could say I took it for granted…
Or you could say that creativity united us in the same way being in the wilderness did. Everything else fell away and we were fully present with each other. No hospital visits (except for that one year). No canceled checks. No need to worry about the other foot falling. It was a break from real life, which was hard, when we allowed ourselves to flourish in our true nature.
It wasn’t the same after my mom died, and I haven’t been back since my dad passed. I have no doubt that the festival is as fantastic as ever. But some things aren’t replaceable, and that’s okay.
My dad’s birthday and my adoption day still sit two days apart on the calendar. It makes me smile to revisit those festival memories. Sure, it can be bitter sweet some years. But I keep what’s most precious by focusing on the essence of that experience.
Sometimes it’s better to honor what was, remember it fondly, and move forward with grace. There’s something beautiful about having a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
I still find time to get creative and spend time in the wild. I make space for these moments for myself and my children. It’s not the same, but it is, by extension, a way of honoring my upbringing and connecting my past to my present.
