The past is gone...literally.

On my 37th birthday, two days ago, I did something I'd been thinking of on and off for a while. I threw out my old journals. That's probably nearly 20 years of my life's ramblings now in a dump somewhere. Good. Whenever I went back and re-read them, I never thought how cool or creative or interesting I was...I just ended up thinking how pitiful I was. Maybe I was not that pitiful. Who knows? But, I didn't see any value in keeping those reminders of angst-ridden, sad years of trying to figure out life through a boy, art or drugs around anymore.

My life is pretty "settled" now, and I actually haven't written regularly in journals like I used to for...hmm...longer than I have been married, which is six years. I have still felt angst, recently, actually, but am ready to be rid of it. I know what I need to do so now I am just going to do it. The angst may still be there, the uncertainty will be, too, but I can find some peace by embracing spirituality in the universe and my place in that, rather than the self, self, self that I was so absorbed in for so many years.

***

I look at my daughter's face and into her eyes. She is so beautiful. There is such a cleanness and purity to her and I am struck with the notion that she is very special. She will be something important. She will do great things. And I wonder if my mother thought this of me and whether all parents think this of their young ones...and I think of how much of a "nothing" I actually am now as an adult. And it gives me pause. I am not pure. I am not clean. My skin in blemished, burnt, wrinkled. My body has fat and sags in places. My teeth are yellow. My hair is dry. I have done bad things. I have hurt people. My brain is scrambled. I strive. I fail. I grasp. I lose. How far have I fallen from the perfection of my babyhood when my mother must have gazed at me in wonder? Yet, she is not disappointed. I know this because I know my mother and because she tells me she is not disappointed. In fact, she tells me how wonderful I am, and special. Still. Amazing. Of course, we are all our own worst critics. Perhaps that's how it should be. So, I know, that in order to "save myself" in order for me to go forth in my life, getting older, getting further from the purity and perfection, in order for me to maybe, maybe have a chance at something good, something important, I have to give up my notion of what is good and what is important. I have to give up my ideas about gain and the self. Because that stuff does not matter. I have to savor the here and now.

***

Breathing in, I calm my body.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment.

***

And life is just a string of moments, no?