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Unconditional

Following a dry-stone wall on a beautiful spring day, the old man took a sharp right turn into an enclosure. On first impressions, the young man thought they had stepped into a cemetery until the old man directed his friend toward one of many standing stones. Out of respect for the dead, the young man was careful not to stand on the area in front of each stone. The old man laughed gently.

“There are no corpses beneath this earth my friend.”

“Is this not a cemetery?”

“Look closely.”

The young man glanced around. It was a peaceful, rural location with a few trees showing young leaves. Bluebells covered most of the ground and where they left space, tulips and fresh green grass thrived. A storybook scene; blue sky, comfortable sunshine and a hint of a breeze. A perfect place to meditate or spend time with a friend.

At last, the young mans’ eyes fell upon the closest stone. “It reads like a reminiscence of a particular event.”

“Exactly that. Do you recognize the event described on this stone?”

The young man read the words. Silently at first and then again out-loud.

“She handed him the baby,” the young man hesitated and took a deep breath. “He accepted her carefully and with difficulty. The oxygen tube got in the way, she moved it. Even the weight of a baby not two months old was difficult to hold.”

He swallowed, tearfully and looked at his old friend.

“It reminds me of a life-event. I was in a hospital and spent two months there.”

“Now you are well my young friend. Why does it hurt so much? It’s in the past.”

“Five children under the age of ten and we lived in a house two long bus journeys away from the hospital. Getting them to school and nursery involved four miles of walking, twice each day. The shops were another three miles round trip in the opposite direction. Nobody offered help, not really. So, she gave everything and didn’t give up on ‘us,’ not for a moment.”

Resting a hand on the old mans’ shoulder, he looked into his eyes.

“Why do you punish me with a reminder of this?”

“We all have a space where memories, good, bad and seemingly indifferent reside. This is yours and it was your choice to come here.”

“I wasn’t aware of any choice.”

“They are your memories. It’s up to you to dwell upon them or, take what you can and move on with your life.”

“I felt so guilty and useless laying there.”

“Regardless, she gave you her unconditional love. Accept that, it’s all you need.”

The young man smiled like it might eclipse the sun and faded away into the glow.

Drawers Full of Memories

“There’s an image of an old dresser on my mind.”

The older man walked along the footpath a few metres below a high mountain ridge. The younger man followed. They enjoyed companionable solitude, but the young man couldn’t shake the image and asked the wise man for his opinion.

“You are going through a period of great change in your life my young friend. Are things stored in the dresser that need throwing out?”

“My mind is full of memories.”

“Secrets?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

“Yet your response was curt.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound abrupt. I’m not particularly proud of everything in my memory and some things are best not disturbed.”

“Why?”

“Embarrassing, not experiences I wish to share. Others are painful.”

“Yet you store them in the drawers of your dresser.”

Another great mountain came into view as they rounded a large erratic boulder. The young man stopped and leaned, short of breath. The older man looked at him, a slight smile, an obvious concern on his wind-worn face.

“Thinking about the clutter in your dresser is not going to help with anything except draw you back to past events. Why go there? What purpose might it serve?”

The young man still leaned against the boulder but had caught his breath.

“You may as well put your energy into moving the boulder as revisiting those memories.”

“Even if I could move this boulder, it serves no purpose.”

“Quite true my friend. Just as resurrecting those memories serves none. Let this wind in our faces take away your clutter. Leave the drawers open until it’s gone. Make space for new experiences.”

Having done that, they continued along their route with the younger man in the lead. His higher-self took hold of his imagination, expanding his thoughts. His step light, he seemed to float above the path.

“Now work those imaginations into reality but don’t forget to tidy away the clutter occasionally.”

The young man laughed and followed the thread of a great idea. When the path offered two routes, he knew precisely which to follow. He hadn’t allowed all the clutter to blow away, he knew of an audience who may appreciate and learn from his past.

Memories

Near the summit of a high mountain, a young man sat in a rocky alcove.  Wandering the universal consciousness, he came across an old man. They greeted one another as friends do, and the old man bid his friend to follow him toward the summit. It wasn’t long before the elder pointed out a way-mark.

“Those rocks are memories from your current life. Do you see anything in particular?”

“Yes,” said the young man. “A light shining through the rocks.”

Indeed, there was a small point of light shining through a gap halfway up the way-mark which stood at about two metres tall.

“An old,  insignificant memory holding you back. You have no further need of it. Take a rock from the ground and use it to block out that light.”

The younger man did as his friend instructed and they walked away.

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