"The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there."
-- L. P Hartley, The Go-Between
So the past is past and not necessarily prologue and yet its structures and interactional patterns continue to impact the present unless and even when made visible.
Last week I burrowed into and through the old wounds for a couple of reasons. First because I felt "called" to do so. My relationship with my muse is a perverse and tricky one and sometimes s/he insists that I write about particular topics without letting me in on the reasons. Because this blog is a spontaneous and time-pressed text, I pretty much respond to what that "still, quiet" and, thankfully, no longer "still quiet" voice requests of me.
Second, so that my friends would have a deeper understanding of me through learning about two shaping two foundational events that occurred when I was turning into what might be thought of as an adult. If it had not been for those two events there's a good chance I would neither have stayed in Idaho nor married. I might also not have carried with me for so long that mix of rage and its covering craving for connection which have, at times, gotten me into trouble. (Thanks going out now to the doctors and therapists who've helped me manage or at least understand each over the decades.)
Third, I posted The Family Tragedy stories for members of Sally's high school class who might still be wondering "whatever happened to . . ." and search for her online.
The Amazing Criswell used to say, "The stars do not compel, the stars impel." The same is true of the past. It sends us back to the future with the collection of attitudes and communication tools it has available. New patterns and means are available to us along our path but only if we see them and only if we choose to pick them up and use them.
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