Prism

The prism is a piece of cut glass we hang in our window, to catch light and cast colors. It only works in the right conditions, when the sun is at the right angle, and it doesn’t last long. But when it works, it fills the room with rainbows.

I can remember the most random things when I am in a deep meditation. When you switch off the mind, you can create your own amusement park of memories.

This week, I remembered a boy from grade school: I saw his buck teeth and poker-straight, brown hair, and remembered his name started with Brian and ended in some peculiar way. This morning, I placed it: Hillegass, and I found a picture of him on Twitter.

Many of us like to keep in touch with people from our past. It offers a sense of continuity: by looking at them later in life, we’re reminded of where we were earlier in life, through them. They are a point of reference to remind us that we’re real, and our life spans are meaningful.

I like remembering people like Brian. It reminds me that all of my life is still there, inside, somewhere.

Moving In Stereo

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in inspiration, MöbiusTrip, yoga and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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