rewriting history

My past is alive in every moment. Parts that were left behind remain present but detached. The pain that could not be integrated coagulates like blood and becomes isolated. Feelings that a child cannot even fully experience acquire a life of their own, demanding to be felt but having no one that is truly present to feel them, to acknowledge them, to accept them. And so they remain. And now I am an adult or so it seems. But so many ghosts haunt me from my childhood. They are the me's that I could not assimilate, the pains that could not be suffered. Put away for a later that never comes. Because they are the dark.

We all know the dark. Shall I write Dark? It is so alive and so personal and so intimate, it seems to deserve to be named. The Dark takes form in our dreams. We fear it, we run from it. It seems to chase us, it wants to destroy us.We call them nightmares and we try to avoid them. And also in life, we avoid it, the Dark, though its form is fleeting, hard to grasp. It takes form in the people we meet, the ones we don't like, the ones that don't like us. We try not to think about it too much, best just to avoid uncomfortable situations.

But the dark is not our enemy, the dark is us. The forms that chase us seek to unite with us. They are pulled to us, inevitably, because they are us. We run from them because we don't want to feel the things we put aside. We wish those things would just go away. Pain. Fear. Loneliness. Anger. We didn't want to feel them then, why would we want to feel them now?

But I am seeking lost parts. I have always wanted to be One, to unite. So I tried to love, I looked for peace, I tried to release anger. But it never worked. Because everywhere I go, I take the lost parts with me. Like a trail of ghosts following me. And in everything I do they remain on the side, in the dark. I look for love in the hope that they will be attracted to the light, and we will unite. I look for peace in the hope that they will stop being afraid and we will unite. I release anger in the hope that they will join me in the release and all will be well. But they do not. Their stories are not here. Their stories are in the past. They live in those pasts, reliving the suffering. And I do not understand why I am so heavy, that they are me, their darkness is in my soul, the suffering is my own.

So I am travelling into the past. To see through eyes that were my own. Are they still? I cannot say. But now I am here. Now there is someone to acknowledge the pain, to accept it. Now is the time to stop blaming, to stop being angry. It does not serve me. It does not matter who caused the pain, who is to blame, who was not there. What matters is to embrace, to bring love. That love is supernatural. It does not grow from the past, it grows from the future. The future of what I know and what I want, what I choose to become. It flows through the heart, through the agency of Christ, through the divine that is only for us to choose.