Haunting Memories

Photo courtesy of Angel Torres

I am my own ghost, 

haunting the memories I love the most.

-- Anonymous

The reflection I see looks back at me, with the memories of a lifetime; physical scars are simply proof of life and less obvious, the older we get, than the aches and pains of age, yet all are products of questionable decisions in life.  Previously restful sleep is now interrupted with recurring nightmares of running faster than death at your heels and those, much slower, comrades well remembered.  Of all this, I would not trade a moment, save to spare my loved ones from the ghost, and a career spent lost and alone at the abyss; a poor choice to be sure, yet one which few cannot shy away from.  

The lucky of us claw our way back from the edge only to find we haunt the memories of our past, wondering if it was all worth the sacrifice of comrades, friends, and family, and we find, with some perverse satisfaction, these memories we haunt are the ones we love the most.  We might also haunt memories which go before; the youth of loves lost, lies told, and truths which remained unspoken to those we care about.  

We can reconnect with friends of our youth only to realize we also haunt the alternate universe of those realities that might have been, had we spoken up, made different choices, and said I love you or I care.  We can see in some of their lives the results of poor health, the lines, wrinkles, and pains of being beaten down by life.  We constantly read the obituaries in our high school alumni periodicals, and cancel our membership to avoid the realization of our own mortality, the ticking down of our own antique clock, regardless of how many times we lie to ourselves about how young we feel; the lie that makes you heft a sack of concrete onto your shoulder and hump it over to the back of a truck, then repeat it a few times just so you can suffer from shoulder and back pain for the coming week.  This is the haunting memory of being a dumbass.

I splash water on my face and look up to lock eyes with a familiar stranger.  I see him each morning, and each morning the recognition fades a bit.  I chalk it up to the same "old-timer's" which causes me to look for the reading glasses I find in my hand or the coffee I just set down but have to go to the coffee pot before I remember I just set it down.  My mother says these are the little things which are of little importance in our lives, so we deem them too trivial to waste time with memory.  But, it's my coffee, damn it!  There are trivial things that important.

I find myself approaching 65 and knowing I have much to make up for, if not in this life then in the next.  I have splashed in the pond with reckless abandon and little concern for the ripple effect on those around me.  People I hurt or let go, things I left unsaid, things I did and didn't do, those decisions which I know, in my heart, may have changed people's lives, their futures, and their happiness.  I know that we affect life by being in it as much as we do by being out of it.  Our presence can be needed as much as it can be missed, and the people around us are needed as much as we can miss them when they're gone.

I constantly impress upon my readers the need to live in the present, the now, between the ticks of the clock.  Everything we do has effect on time and space.  If we opt to do nothing, we have opted to do something which also causes effect.  Every kind word, every door we hold open, everyone we assist, has as much good effect as our harsh words, rudeness, and indifference, have bad effect.  

Living in memory and worrying about an uncertain future is simply wasting a potential we are better served to make use of in the present.  Perhaps the consequences tomorrow of some decision you made yesterday might have been mitigated by paying attention to the present instead of worrying about something other than now and those things over which you really have little or no control.  

We bring much with us on our journey through life; most of us bring luggage and a snack.  The delicious Big Mac is our living in the now; our memories, the baggage we weigh ourselves down with for the trip.  Good memories are the shower kit of life, the necessities.  Bad memories are like the arctic clothing we packed expecting to trek through Alaska, only to find we took a wrong turn and ended up in Death Valley.  We had it or thought we needed it, only to find it would have been better to buy what we need when we arrive, in other words, to live in the present.

If one has to be haunted by memories, I suppose it's better to be haunted by those memories we love the most.  Survival is when we are left with nothing and, therefore, have nothing to lose, or everything to gain. This is probably why I truly loved survival camping, and why it takes so little, nowadays, to make me happy in life.  Taoism teaches that an empty mind is ready to be filled, and the hole in the hub, the empty space, is what makes the wheel useful.  Living in the now is what keeps the mind centered and balanced.  

By the way, is it just me or has anyone else noticed women tend to bring a significantly larger shower kit on their journey than most men?  Then again, being from Mars, who do I care about impressing enough to bring that much crap?  Just saying.

Editor's Note 

(re: disclaimer cum "get out of jail free" card) 

Before you go getting your panties in a bunch, it is essential to understand that this is just an opinion site and, as such, can be subjected to scrutiny by anyone with a differing opinion. It doesn't make either opinion any more right or wrong than the other. An opinion, presented in this context, is a way of inciting others to think and, hopefully, to form opinions of their own, if they haven't already done so. This is also why, occasionally, I will present an "opinion" just to stir an emotional pot. Where it may sound like I agree with the statements made, I'm more interested in getting others to consider another viewpoint.

It is my fervent hope that we keep open and active minds when reading opinions and then engaging in peaceful, constructive, discussion in an arena of mutual respect concerning the opinions put forth. After over twenty years with military intelligence, I have come to believe engaging each other in this manner and in this arena is the way we will learn tolerance and respect for differing beliefs, cultures, and viewpoints.

We all fall from grace, some more often than others; it is part of being human. God's test for us is what we learn from the experience, and what we do afterward.

Pastor Tony spent 23 years with United States Air Force Intelligence as a planner, analyst, briefer, instructor, and senior manager. He spent 17 years, following his service career, working with an Institutional Review Board helping to protect the rights of human subjects in pharmaceutical research. Ordained 1n 2013 as an "interfaith" minister, he founded the Congregation for Religious Tolerance in response to intolerance shown by Christians toward peaceful Islam. As the weapon for his war on intolerance he chose the pen, to wage his "battle" in the guise of the Congregation's official online blog, The Path, of which he is both author and editor. "The Path" offers a vehicle for commentary and guidance concerning one's own personal, spiritual, path toward peace and the final destination for us all. He currently resides in Pass Christian, Mississippi, where he volunteers as Chaplain Program Liaison, at a regional medical center.