For a long time I have planned on creating my own blog, but for some reason I never found the perfect time to do so. Now, as the holidays approach and I am relaxed without obligations, I could not think of a better way to spend my time. This blog will be a way for me to remember both the happy moments and the sad, times when I was elated and those when I struggled. In a way, it will be similar to a diary but not as private. Even so, I intend on expressing my thoughts and feelings, not simply my day to day activities.
The theme of my blog is "Memories" because I wish to use this blog to write my memories down so I will always be able to reference them. It is hard to remember all the moments in life, and it seems as though even the special ones may slip through the cracks. However, memory is a precious thing. It amazes me how quickly one can reminisce on moments in life and feel those same emotions as if a person were there again. Some of my memories are rather detailed. Many special conversations that I have had with friends, family members, and the special people in my life usually carry not only meaning, but certain phrases stick out distinctly in my mind. At times I find that I can recall most of a conversation, along with the feelings I felt at the time and the facial expressions of the person I was talking to. These types of memories are permanent because of the weight they carried or the emotions involved were strikingly present. Many other memories, though, are singly frozen in time. Just one thought, one image, one feeling. This could be the look on someone's face at a given instant, or the way a hug felt so warm, or a scene set still forever in time, all of which have meaning wrapped in their countenance.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox wrote a few poems on memories, one of which I find to be very fitting, which is titled "Memory's Garden," written in 1873. She describes running through the garden of her memory, of all the happy times of laughter and "foolish bliss." She goes on to say that not everything is perfect in that garden though, and at the end of her poem, she leaves the garden because of the pain in order to live in the present. The ending may seem gloomy but it brings a feeling of contentment to me. I am glad to have the ability to focus on my life as it unfolds. It is never healthy to live in the past, especially when it clouds one's perspective day to day. Unlike her, though, remembering the sad and painful times of my life brings me a sense of purpose. I cannot always experience joy, because in my opinion, times of sorrow, grief, and pain bring about internal growth, renewal, and strength. Carl Jung wrote, "Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness." When I remember painful times in my past, surely I experience those emotions and it is not always easy; however, when I recognize how I overcame those obstacles, the lessons I learned, and how it has made me a more complete person, I cannot help but be thankful for those times when I struggled. Sadness, anger, grief, pain, loneliness, and heartache only serve to propel us forward if we allow ourselves the opportunity. Whenever I experience these emotional moments in my life, I let myself feel that way and immerse myself in the moment. It is important to recognize certain feelings and why they are there. After naturally dealing with these emotions, though, there is a time for serious reflection. Because of these moments, and thoughtful inward contemplation, I have learned more about myself, others, and life than I ever could have by simply being happy.
These last several years have proven to have many difficult moments for me, but I am glad those moments are a part of my past. Without them, I would not be the person I have become. My memory of these unfortunate instances are important to remember, because through them, I find that triumph, satisfaction, and happiness follow. With this in mind, I cannot help but smile while I remember the pain, laugh when I recall the difficulties, and feel true happiness when I see how far I have walked through the path of life.
Memory's Garden by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Back on its golden hinges
The gate of Memory swings,
And my heart goes into the garden
And walks with the olden things.
The old-time, joys and pleasures,
The loves that it used to know,
It meets there in the garden,
And they wander to and fro.
It heareth a peal of laughter,
It seeth a face most fair,
It thrills with a wild, strange rapture
At the glance of a dark eye there;
It strayeth under the sunset
In the midst of a merry throng,
And beats in a tuneful measure,
To the snatch of a floating song.
It heareth a strain of music
Swell on the dreamy air,
A strain that is never sounded,
Save in the garden there.
It wanders among the roses,
And thrills at a long-lost kiss,
And glows at the touch of fingers,
In a tremor of foolish bliss.
But all is not fair in the garden, --
There's a sorrowing sob of pain;
There are tear-drops, bitter, scalding,
And the roses are tempest-slain.
And I shut the gate of the garden,
And walk in the Present's ways,
For its quiet paths are better
Than the pain of those vanished days!
