They really do help: the old journal entries.. the old quotes and vague sentences, exact words.. the datestamps and locations/mindframes recalled..
There’s irony and beauty and embarassment in being faced with my own records of my real thoughts and past experiences. The things I knew clearly, the choices I made, the reasons I gave, the reasons I kept. It’s difficult to claim ignorance when you’re paying attention all along. Miss the fact? Or misunderstand it? Or overestimate? Misplaced trust? Misplaced attention? Misplaced devotion?
Still plenty to spin my head, but very little left to learn.
So I’m quieting, gradually, quickly..
My selective memory and other souvenirs of my evolution will keep me.
Hm.. TBD on that. But keep me anyway.
Actually, I’ve liked all the weather these days.
And the seasons will change… I’ll notice.