For those of us who have lived in other countries there is often a longing for that place, or another place that is not here. The other day I was walking in the city when that kind of nostalgia for Roma washed over me. Places can be like lovers that live inside of you even when they are no longer around, but whereas some you memorialize, others you want to forget. Even those become part of you.
I realize that those moments of nostalgia are often accompanied by not feeling connected to myself. It is then that I want to be anywhere but here. Usually that means that I am off in my head, and out of my body, as the saying goes, stuck in the grooves of old thought forms that are repetitive and uncreative. They allow no new information to come through and they perpetuate that feeling that something is missing.
But sometimes that feeling of missing someone or something is beautiful. It has a haunting quality that in essence is translucent and intangible.
Sometimes one’s perception of things and events can be mistaken or colored by one’s state of being. Recently, for example, I spent time with an old friend, with whom I’ve had relatively little contact with over the past decade. We had the opportunity to talk about the past and how each of us saw it. It made me aware of how the ideas that I held at the time had an adverse effect, making something lovely into an overly dramatic and unhappy situation. Of course, this is the simplified version, and there are many details I’ve left out. But it was very healing to talk about now. It’s never too late to forgive and reclaim your own power.
Posted by Barbara at March 15, 2004 10:49 AM