How far back can we go?
After meditation, my mind sometimes wanders off into the future (not surprisingly). But it also wanders back into the past. Possibilities.
My ‘Past Me’ wandering doesn’t just take me through 2018. Nor my failed engagement a few years ago. Nor my childhood. It also briefly embodies the actions of my ancestors.
From seeing myself embroidering a large-brimmed hat by hand in a mechanical era, stitch by stitch, to sitting in front of fires outdoors, baking pounded root bread in a pit oven, wary of big cats. These people … possible people whose traits I’ve probably inherited enough to bring information up from the depths of time? Is it possible? So it sometimes seems …
And wandering onwards (or backwards) … peeling back the layers … I can find myself suddenly close to the roughness of a tree, feeling myself scurrying up in fear of something startling below, aware of only smells and sounds and my darting eyes catching strange textures in a different capacity of sight. Only when I’m safe between two branches up high, do I carefully tend to a bite on my tail. And when the storming rain falls, is it the bud … just the tiniest bud of the dawn of inner sensing life? … to sense it as ‘stern’, like a father’s challenge. And the branches as supportive … like a mother’s arms … holding me away from the danger and fright.