Yesterday I found this photo of mine, taken by my mother, I still can remember, which triggered like a falling Domino stone a lot of other thoughts. Bad memories and good ones too. The perforation of my appendix with 9, the skull fracture with 11, the overprotecting and clinging love of my parents, the struggles in and with school and in my job and the death of my parents which broke my heart deeply. My good memories consist in the unconditional love of my parents and the experience of trust in the human God who never let me alone in my bad days.
On the other hand everything is so far away as if it happened in another life. This little boy on the photo shall be me? Unbelievable! But I know from my dreams when seemingly my consciousness tries to restore and to heal my heart, that a thin but strong thread connects me to my past to this little boy. That we have the same identity although the cells of mine have changed many times and although we look totally differently. I don’t want to go back to go through this all again.
Maybe it’s a great illusion but it’s much more than that. I’m quite satisfied, I can accept how it was, can accept the good together with the bad. Nevertheless, I’d rather hadn’t experienced the bad things in my life.
But it’s not that easy. Often they were the basis for good things like new beginnings and changes of my personality.
And when I was thinking about all these things I was astonished and a great gratitude rose in me like the sun rises in the early morning.