April signals spring

and soon things will unfold from their winter nap, yawn, and grow into summer.  Life cycles and seasons have a way of  grounding us and reinforcing continuity. 

Not long ago I had a chance to see “Life of Pi,” the Ang Lee directed and produced movie of a boy and tiger shipwrecked on a raft.  It was a visual delight, a little thin on plot line, and heavy on allegory.  There was a line near the end of the movie that resonated with me and has continued to tumble around in my mind:  Life is a series of letting go. 

When reflecting on all the places in our lives, the people loved and not-so-loved, the experiences molding us —  the relentless march of time becomes truly amazing. Over time, with every person and place, we let something go and gather something different. The concept of Self changes, refocuses, and morphs into a new Self, a new time and place. 

Another thought gleaned from reading (don’t remember which book), reminds that we don’t choose what to remember. Rather memories choose us.  I love that one. Sort of like cats you know, they choose where to live and whose lap to nap in. Rounding up memories equals herding cats. That image holds true when reminiscing with another person on what-happened-on-that-day-twenty-years ago or how those high school years unfolded. When talking to family, it is especially critical to validate all memories, however divergent. 

Always our memories and experiences and blow willy-nilly across time. Sometimes a few snag on a fence and flap in the wind like stray pieces of cloth, stray pieces of self.   

Here’s another thought gleaned from some book read some place at some time. Things come into focus best when we look back. Doesn’t always work; but, then again, occasionally it does. I guess the prism of time and distance helps sharpen our focus. Or, blur it. 

What does all of this have to do with you?  Only what you choose to take. 


  1. I think we sometimes look back through filtered lenses–which is probably a good thing. I have wonderful memories of going sucker grabbing with my Dad in springs past. It always peaked about the time the dogwoods bloom. Now, when I see those blooms, I think of him and the good times we shared together every spring.


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