I live with layers of personal archeology. Some of it is purposeful and featured, like the Gymboree rocking horse I can’t seem to part with, the brass candlesticks my great grandmother brought with her on the boat from Russia, and my favorite marbles from when I was little. They touch my heart, and they are good company.
Some of my treasures are safely tucked away, and some get temporarily forgotten. Every so often, I go through boxes and drawers, and root out treasure. I was in the midst of a personal excavation last week, when I unexpectedly ran into a younger version of myself on a cassette tape. She sent me reeling.
As I listened, I became an audience member in her 1995 show. I liked her. I became a fan. She was funny and vulnerable and brave.
That long ago version of me had four songs in her set that I had forgotten I wrote. With my memory triggered, I remembered that they were too close to the bone, too heart on my sleeve, and I stopped being willing to sing them. (I am in the process now of evaluating their worthiness for resurrection.)
I listened to the tape in my car with tears in my eyes. (Yes, I still have a cassette deck in my car.) As I listened, I grieved for the lost years. I listened as the audience sang and laughed along with me. I had built a relationship with those people. I was doing what I was born to do, and I was doing it well. And, I let it slip away...
As I drove in my car listening, I felt like I let that long ago me down. I didn’t take care of her. The truth of it is that I developed a stubborn case of writer’s block, lost my momentum, and began to feel like a faker. Other things claimed my time, and years went by…
As I inhabit my present day skin, I am determined to take care of the future me. I think of that me with every decision I make. She is depending on me! I want to give her the life she deserves. I want her to happen upon something of my current life in a box or a drawer, and greet it with a smile and a thank you…
Are you sending postcards to the future?