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Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Sunday, May 04, 2008

I Don’t Remember but My Hands Do

As we walked along she bent down to pick a blade of grass. “I used to be able to do this” she said as she blew on the blade of grass held between her thumbs, but no sound came.

I remembered that trick, making the call of a crow with a blade of grass held between the thumbs. I remembered how to hold it but I could not explain how to stretch it tight enough.

Decades had passed since I had tried this trick with a blade of grass. “Watch my hands” I said as I saw my hands grasp the blade of grass tightly between my left forefinger and thumb and stretched it, trapping it tightly with my other hand.

As I blew and heard the sound I remembered my father who had first shown me this trick so long ago. For just that moment he had returned to me to fill my whole body with his presence and his love.

I realized that imbedded in every cell of my body there was recorded every event and every experience of my life that had long left my memory and consciousness but were as real as the moment they transpired. I could immediately become that child again and experience the wonder and joy of any moment or I could at once be overcome with the very real but irrational fears of a five year old that would limit me as an adult.

Suddenly it’s clear, how easily I could be overcome with fear or upset that was stored in the cells of my body. I was left aware that so often events or people had triggered these stored memories. Now I could just observe them as they replay and choose which ones to let occupy my present consciousness.


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