Oftentimes during meditation, I am visited by flash-memories dislodged from some dusty recess of my unconscious — vignettes and glimpses of people, places, and events from long ago and far away, belonging to what feels like another lifetime. They are entirely banal — the curb of a childhood sidewalk, mid-afternoon light falling on a familiar building in a familiar way, the smell of a leather armchair on a hot summer day — but in their banality they intimate the existence of the former self who inhabited those moments, a self that seems so foreign and so remote, yet one to which I am forever fettered by this half-conscious memory.
Published by The Wisdom Archivist
I have been collecting bits of wisdom in the form of words and poems for almost fifty years. These words have come from writers, poets, politicians, the every day man and woman, the famous and the infamous. I am The Wisdom Archivist. View all posts by The Wisdom Archivist