August 11, 2001 04:10 AM
A life is spread out before me on the living room floor. I’ve dumped out the contents of large boxes there and I’m going through photos, private journals, postcards from all over the world , and letters both received and unsent. It’s an act of remembering where I’ve been; who I’ve known, who I’ve been. As much as the acknowledgement of personal history surfaces as known by my brain’s data bank, who “I” was does not. I’m exploring a distant life, a stranger’s life. I ‘know’ it is mine but I have nothing from it claim me. Awareness is now of a sense of wonder and uncertainty. .. Just questions more than answers. Who and what I am now in the scheme of things… In the spirit of a childlike “show and tell,” some humor, and joyous camaraderie, I share some of the bits and pieces of old journal entries and photos and newspaper clippings and things like RoboCop stickers with V.
Instead of a sentimental connection with items kept , the keyboard and a blank sheet of paper and a pen have been the vehicle for communing with a kind of inner voice. It’s like the voice of a friend who has encouraged me to say what’s on my mind and in my heart. A form of expression ? a crutch ? a gift ? a need ? All of these. None of these.
And what is my objective in going through all this stuff from a life ? To cleanse and let go all but the select few. To pass on and give away more than I keep. To honor the present and welcome the future. To look at where I am now and acknowledge this reality .