What I'm finding out is that it takes much more time than I expected to process memories that are anchored in strong emotional experiences. Memories like weeds whose taproots have grown deep, the soil around them hardened; I can't pull them without altering the fabric of my personality, without changing the relationship of my self to my past. I have started transplanting them to a richer context where they can be viewed from a more mindful perspective, not just through a child's eyes. When the memory comes out there are the facts to consider, the state of the world, my age when it happened, and then I have to identify the filter of whatever I can see back through the tunnel of time from now until then.
As I said, it takes time.
When I began my drawing practice in 1999 I hoped to make a drawing every day but even with discipline it took years to let go of the fear and just draw. So now I am learning the rhythms of writing and trusting my voice.
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