Moving and Memory Bubbles

Recently I moved into a new place in a district I have previously not had much to do with and miles away from where I used to live.  After three years of having my things in a storage unit, finally I’m getting the chance to love them all again and to sort out what I no longer need.  My last home was three times the size of this one and it was a family home, my kids were there too. 

Now the last few weeks I’ve found myself having to go through all that stuff by myself and discovering with the many mystery boxes, that they are more like time capsules and memory bubbles.  Once the bubble is burst then I can tell, touch, taste, smell, hear the past and it has been an intense experience. 

The mystery boxes are the ones that somehow missed getting a label on them.  One by one I’ve sat down, some of them quite large, and opened them like a curator in a museum.  In a way I feel like an emotional archaeologist discovering parts of my inner past that had been hidden or forgotten.  Interesting how I’ve had to uncover so much and sort through it physically, mentally and emotionally. 

The kids and I changed scene a lot and as much as I wanted to keep life a lot more stable than mine ever was, somehow, I still managed to rock the boat a lot for them with unhealthy relationships and bringing too great a dysfunctional family background on my side and on their father’s side.  They had no hope, I guess.  I’ve learned so much about how we try to protect them as much as possible and not give them what we went through, and yet mysteriously through all best intentions, magically give them the experiences I guess they signed up for in this life. 

Due to my health, the two moves before this were done by others.

Some of these boxes are from two moves ago and not opened for over ten years.  Important treasures were lost and damaged and even though I am still physically challenged, I was determined to make sure less was destroyed.  My art collection namely! It takes up a third of my garage! I’m amazed at how people treat art.  Yes much of it is damaged in some way and certainly some pieces have been taken (most likely by my kids) but I’m glad to have some of the important pieces of my previous artistic incarnation in this life.

Each box had a theme and I found myself having to confront old memories and emotions that were unexpected.  I had an Ashram box filled with notes from training, my cooking ideas and recipes, letters (printed out emails), tonnes of old incense, brass paraphernalia, and photos.  Another box was from an ex with all the books of notes from our weekly café meeting sessions planning great things for the future.  He loved masterminding as much as I did and the ideas and notes were joyous and exuberant still to this day.  If found old written letters and cards and again, photos.  They took me straight back to those days that I loved.

Then there’s plenty of boxes of notes books and sketch books.  Too many.  A slightly embarrassing amount if at all I was embarrassed.  A box of entrepreneurial notebooks filled to the brim with a hyper almost manic creativity that somehow, I don’t think I’ve managed to harness and use as much as I could have.  Idea after idea, content upon pages of flowing content.  Strategy, marketing ideas and mostly my seemingly incurable love of branding, personal branding. 

I threw two big recycling bins full away.  Cards, letters, notebooks, folders, papers, photos.  I kept odd pages and bits and pieces that could fit into my ‘discipline’ box ie only the absolute essentials I was sentimental about.  Pictures and notes in journals my kids had done to surprise me with a hello when I was out on a work day.  Some ideas are still brilliant and even if I don’t get to the stage of using them, they’re so satisfying I had to keep them.  Some have gone into the bin grave and allowed to rest in peace and treasured by the cosmos and hopefully transmuted into something new.

There are at least 20 more such boxes to go in the shed.  The house is in chaos which I don’t enjoy and it isn’t helped with a hot summer suddenly rolling in and sitting in a hot stuffy space entering into what feels like tombs that should have been forgotten and left to history. Yes, I have procrasted a lot.  This is part of that procrastination although I’m loving getting the ideas and thinking centre moving again.  Why connecting through communication is so important to me I don’t know.  If no one reads this is doesn’t matter.

The important part is that I haven’t allowed the bubbles to grip me.  Some items have of course pulled on my heart strings, hence the discipline box.  Some tedious things like tax info, way too much of it, still has to stay in a box.  The rest though I let myself enjoy and have that profoundly strong present moment of the past, if that makes sense.  I was fully there and yet here and felt it as though those old people were about to walk in the door.

Happily, there are no regrets, well apart from not enjoying the stuff that reminded me of the kids at home.  Having an empty nest impacted this girl, a lot.  I could happily have three houses in a row on a street with me and each adult child in one each.  Alas the kids are fiercely independent and doing well in their lives so somehow, somewhere everything must have predominantly been ok.  It would be great however, if they came ‘home’ for a meal once a week.  I’ll keep you posted.  I have fortunately found the best pieces of their prolific art work, possibly too many, and that makes me very happy. The rest, yes I did take a deep breath and throw out. 

Memories come up for a reason.  This all happened for a reason. Maybe it was time to face things I hadn’t ‘signed off’ on long ago.  Maybe it was simply to consciously let things go. Maybe it was to consider things I’d long forgotten.  Maybe it was to find sensational old IP that I am meant to use in the future?  Who knows? But that’s the fun part, life is alive and pulsating and never linear. 

Too many people are afraid of their past and memories, so many people tend to shut the door or the opposite, obsess and can’t move on.  I see it as a sign of health to honour our pasts and face things that want to come up even if these sessions have had an intensity of feeling to them.

This is a new life for me, a new start.  In years to come I’ll know why.  Having the teaching Big Heart, Big Mind, Big Being ™ (yep that’s a ™, you can’t kill the entrepreneur, let me have a few small pleasures!) kept me grounded and open and allowing of the intelligence of consciousness ie God’s plan.  The last few years were in some way easy and in other ways the toughest of my life.  Here I can sit and hold it all, the good and the bad, the fun and the painful and be ok as the sun shines and the birds chirp and the washing is finishing in the machine at my friend’s house.  Yep, I have no washing machine…

Embrace the past and allow the bubbles to come up and burst, they are little messengers to help you see how you are going in the present.  Everything is a divine expression of consciousness and I only experience it because of my awareness which is the very same as that source of consciousness. I’m glad of so much and even happier to not still be in the past and to have been forced to move on into the total unknown.   It’s beautiful.  With great love xxx

©MataKamaleshwari