April 24 ē 10:54 AM

Universal truth resonates through ages

November 18, 2009
I read something that's so amazing, so true for me that I can't stop thinking about it.

Every word resonates. Makes sense. So much so that I want to share it.

This comes from a person who wishes to remain anonymous, who says modestly that this is just one person's perspective on life. I find it to be a perspective that has a universal quality—the thing writers and wisemen and women strive for. Here it is:

They say the past is gone, my friend.

They're wrong.

The past is encoded and embedded in every seed and insect, every bird and butterfly, every blade of grass, flower, shrub, tree, animal and every human being.

The past is everywhere—in parched earth and in fields waiting to be harvested, meadows awash with color, coral reefs and fish, gentle streams and raging rivers, waterfalls and rainbows. Dust settles, rain falls, seeds sprout, erosion stops, and the landscape changes while holding the past.

According to some, the past is irrevocably recorded in the Akashic Records, and eternally a part of the Universal Consciousness as well.

My recent personal past, from the moment of conception to the present now, dwells in every word I speak or write, every line in my face, the expression in my eyes, the shape of my body, fluidity of movement, muscle tone or flab, every action and reaction. My recent past reveals itself in the tone of my voice, sense of humor, attitudes and per- ception of events, posture and bearing, the clothes I wear, the food I eat, the work I do, the letters I write, the hobbies that occupy my time, the books I choose to read, those whom I love and cherish, the friends that care for me.

Impossible to hide, my recent past is totally exposed and easily read by those who have eyes that see. Eyes that look and eyes that see are vastly different.

My distant past reveals itself in the skeletal structure of my body, the size of my hands and feet, the color of my eyes, the shape of my brow.

The blood of my ancestors flows through my veins.

I am a walking history of myself, those who conceived me, those who conceived them and so on, back through the ages and before the beginning.

They say the past is gone, my friend.

They're wrong.

The past is in the present, the eternal now.

"Let the past go," they also say, my friend.


How to separate the flower from the seed which becomes the flower?

How to separate my recent past which has made me who and what I am? How to separate thoughts, ideas, inspirations, memories and dreams of my mind and heart?

How to separate from my distant past without which I would not even exist?

"Let the past go," they say.

Go where?

Seriously, I would like to know.

Finding that balance between moving forward while acknowledging the past isn't easy, especially if some of "the past" includes poor choices and/or regret.

Is it possible to "let the past go?" Like the writer above, I don't think so. And maybe it's best we don't.

The best thing, I think, would be to reach a point where it is accepted, acknowledged and even celebrated. The past for each of us, after all, is ours alone. To deny it would be denying a part of myself; to let it go simply isn't possible.

"The past is in the present, the eternal now."

It has led to this moment, this column, these thoughts.

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