The ancient Shaman warriors of Mexico have about them a way of not fussing with even thinking about, recording or venturing into their personal history—it hems the warrior in against their innate purpose, opening them up to untenable weakness. They need to be free to “stalk,” which is a concept nothing like stalking in Western culture. Personal history only gets in their way it seems.
There are many great philosophies of these warriors that I’ve tried to adopt—but rejection of personal history is not one of them.
I embrace my personal history, though not all do. Some can’t stand their personal history—it involves too much pain and they can’t go there. (More on that later through an upcoming article on “ex-ceed” blog—‘Dealing with a Past that Hurts.’)
I embraced my personal history recently in a rather mechanistic fashion. I found an old photograph of my nearly eighteen-year-old daughter, taken when she was seven-months old.
It took me back there in a flash!
Family memories of these times are so rich; we can never truly tap these memories—and in that is great safety. Our relationships have made for us a cushioned bed of thought, a soft landing every time, as we venture freely into those pleasant memories.
My daughter can’t quite understand now what all the fuss is about—after all, she’s the one who’s been alive all her “long” life! But a parent can connect with this thought, especially when reflecting over the basically-grown child’s life (as it is today).
The main point is we’re loath to forget our personal history and the dynamic past events that have made our family or our pasts what they are. Even where there is much pain, there is some joy in every person’s past. Cling to it. Cherish it. In the words of Rob Thomas’ Little Wonders song, we could ‘let our clarity define us,’ and allow it to permeate our identity, embracing joy to feed the presence of hope.
This information begs us to uphold and maintain an oral tradition that will live on long after we’re gone.
© 2010 S. J. Wickham.