Bring it.

“Look ahead. Look ahead!” 

That is a phrase that is forever tattooed on my brain by my harp teacher. When I was 13, I would go to Ms. Tepper’s house once a week for harp lessons. (She was the lady who played at my wedding ceremony 7 years ago.)  She had more folk lore and guinea pigs in one room than China in a China shop. Every week, the first ten minutes of the lesson would be drills. With clammy hands, I’d run scales and arpeggios up and down the harp in time with the ticking of a metronome. Then we’d try some sight reading on songs I had never played before. “Look ahead,” meant to figure out where my fingers would go next on the strings. That meant, to not only read the next notes I was to play, but to somehow take in the ones after them, too. It was challenging, frustrating, and felt impossible.  

Now, almost 20 years later, as I dust off and sit at my harp… “look ahead” is all I hear. I go over and over arpeggios, and I feel Ms. Tepper’s eyes watching me as I remember to “look ahead” to place my fingers immediately where they should go next. 

I realized two things: 

1. Our brains are incredible. 

2. The past never really goes away. 

I didn’t try to forget how to play the harp, I just easily avoided it (it was hiding at my mom’s house) or just didn’t think about it. And yet, after not touching it for 20 years, it all came back to me (um, though obviously, not as practiced) within 30 minutes. 

You can try to forget or block certain memories, knowledge, experiences, etc. You can stuff them into tiny little boxes in your brain, you can bury them and hope that by becoming busy they won’t have room to resurface, you can oversimplify them and declare them “dealt with,” but it isn’t that easy. Unfortunately for Elsa (from Disney's movie Frozen), the past isn’t always in the past. In some way or another, it will always be there and influence who you are today.

The pain you feel from the loss of a loved one, the pride you feel from winning a contest or from buying your first home, the joy you feel landing your dream job, the vulnerable-ness you feel your first night living alone or going to college, the embarrassment you feel when you make a mistake… let's face it, that stuff - those feelings, emotions, experiences - aren’t going to magically dissolve like snowflakes (yeah, Elsa, geez.). 

Sometimes the past will creep up on you like a spider in the summer. For instance:

 - Any time I talk about science-y stuff, I am forced to recall from my 4th grade class: “Mass is anything that has matter and takes up space.” 

- Whenever the smell of honeysuckles wafts up my nostrils, I’m immediately transported to a blissful July 4th weekend on Block Island when I was 5 years old. 

- Turquoise jewelry reminds me of the time my late Auntie Gabe promised to let me live with her when I was 18 so I could get my ears pierced. 

- Whenever I smell hot rubber, I remember how much fun it was to be picked up from elementary school in Bermuda with our bathing suits and huge, black rubber inner tubes in the back of the car, ready to go to the beach. 

- When I see a wooden ruler, I remember what it felt like to get in trouble at school and get my palm smacked with one by a teacher. 

- Occasionally, I have dreams about people who are no longer in my life, and I wake up remembering what it was like to hurt people and be hurt by them. 

- Songs I listen to bring up memories of the pain and sadness I felt when close friends and loved ones passed away. 

- Visiting with friends and family members often reminds me of the joy I felt as they got married and grew their families.

Not all of these are things I would like to experience again. Often, I find myself fighting against reviving the past. I want to never talk about it again so that it disappears or seems like it never happened. Or avoid it by squishing all the feelings into a glass jar and then throwing it over a bridge where it smashes against the rocks below. How satisfying. 

I fear that by thinking about the past, I’ll be forced to experience it again in all it's glory (even if in a less amplified way). And guys, I’ll just say from experience, fighting it is not healthy for the body. (Oh hello, stomach pain, there you are.) The body is not meant to handle all that anguish on it’s own. 

What seems to make these experiences either less burdensome or more joyful, is to share them. I’m not saying to keep dredging things up and dwelling on the past, and I'm also not saying to keep trying or pretending to “let it go.” If that works for you, fine. However, my suggestion is to learn from it, and share it. To me, sharing with others seems to take the energy and power of the experience and disperse it. Funeral services, memorial services, and wakes help people with the pain of their loss by sharing it with each other. If you win a race, how much less fun is that victory if no one is there to celebrate with you or gets to see your trophy? Laughing with your friends about your most embarrassing moment makes it seem less embarrassing. 

So, brace yourselves, as I continue to “look ahead” and share with you my past, present, and future. For the record, I love when people share with me as well! 
Bring it.

(Remember folks, sharing is caring.)