Learning to Let Go.

I've been looking through old journals and doing a bit of spring cleaning.

G refuses to let me get rid of some of my old journals because he says "they are brilliant." I've seen my daughter read some entries especially out of the journals that are closest to her birth date. My son wants me to gather them all together in one big book so it can be some kind of manual on Shamanism, Indigenous Dreaming and the Medicine Wheel. He'd like to learn more on the topics. By the way, he's not the first person to make that request in the last decade. Everyone seems to get something out of those books whereas I get a glimpse of the past and some undeniable need to let go of it.

When we went to the Mayan ruins in January of this year, the anthropologist and guide explained to us that the pyramids were built in such a way as to show that every 52 years the past would be returned to the earth and renewal would take its place. The head of a household would literally build over the old structures of the home and allow the past to disappear into a new foundation. Eventually, the past would only be a small portion of the present and the future. The pyramids basically revealed to us that they were built by slices of 52 years. They were not constructions that were rushed unlike the buildings of today.

Think about it -- the power and the sacredness of the Mayan pyramids lies within their understanding of past, present and future. It certainly explains why these people devoted so much time to prophecy and to the creation of an elaborate calendar. They were mathematicians and scientists. By connecting with the ancestors of the Mayan people I understood that they were conscious of this small ribbon of light that connected them all together as well as to the land and allowed them to move through time and space, learning and healing. They understood the power of their origins; the daily power of their thoughts, their actions and their attitudes; and the power of light which streches into the future. They predicted that by 2012 this ribbon of light that they connected to would come to an end.

I've often wondered it meant the end of the World or the end of the World they were part of...

My grand-father who was born in the early 1900's often talked about how he once lived in a world without refrigerators, TV's, and cars. For us teenagers at the time, it was hard to imagine a world without electricity and subways. Now that I'm 44 years old and that I watch my teenagers walk around with their lap tops and cell phones I can understand my grand-father's perception and how fast things change. There was a time where man was astounded at the possibility of reaching the moon. Now we have scientists exploring Mars.

I may not be 52 years old yet but I certainly can understand this notion of letting go of the past and giving space to renewal. When you look at the Mayan pyramids you see many generations of people commiting to one dream; committing to at least 5 to 7 generations. You understand that the first layer was the start of a spiral and that the last layer was the peak of it. Coming together and building a dream is what creates this sense of sacredness. I'd like to beliee that like the Mayans I'm also connected to a ribbon of light. It's a fact that one day even our World will come an end...

November 2nd, 1993.

The kids were involved in finger painting this morning. They created works of art. I think I will be the kind of mother who keeps everything her children makes. They are so creative, so intelligent and so wise... This makes me unexplainably happy. I can't explain it but I feel deep down a connection to something that can't be named. I wish at times that I could put my finger on it and say: "Yes! That's what it is. It's clear and it makes sense."

Possibly our minds are not meant to make sense of our emotions. Perhaps, our feelings exist without explanation, on their own, intense and passing. Maybe it's human need to combine both thought and emotion which brings forth our mortality.

ME.