Pain level is 7.5 this a.m. – meds don’t help much some days. It’s a beautiful sunny day down by the beach. I’m sitting here listening to the Beach Boys, remembering my innumerable long walks. My fibromyalgia and arthritis have robbed me of that ability. I’m chair-bound most days, unable to walk unassisted.
I may be robbed of my mobility but my memory is darn good. I have the benefit of revisiting those gloriously adventurous, almost endless days of walking all over the world…from one side of Paris to the other, from Sacre Coeur to Napoleon’s Tomb…loving every step on the road less traveled, never passing the same sight twice. And even here, at low tide, I remember walking the firm sand, picking up beach glass, leaving footprints that marked my shoreline progress.
Some days I’d walk on the beach from one community to the next. I’d wander all day and forget where I parked my car, then I’d have to call someone to pick me up. Do you wonder why I didn’t just turn around and walk back the same way I came?
Well, here’s my rule: Never go back. If you can make a circuit that takes a new route, one you have not taken before…that’s the way to do it. But never go back. The nonwilderness hiking rule is hard and fast…never backtrack. Backtracking is seeing again what you’ve already seen. It’s not a challenge. Life is short and backtracking is mostly a waste of consciousness. When abiding by that simple rule, what is the worst that could happen? Maybe you’d have to stop for coffee and wait for a bus? But never, ever go back.
However, right now, as I look at all the joggers, walkers, strollers, and bikers passing by, I wish I had the ability, the option to go back…to backtrack to the days of endless exploration and discovery.
A minute ago, when I began reminiscing, I thought those memories were a good thing. But now, I find myself resentful. I’m envious of those people parading in front of me. Seeing their freedom, I’m jealous and I long for active days gone by. I notice their sandy footprints knowing these are impressions I can no longer make. I remember and I feel twinges of tremendous loss and sadness.
I find going back in my memories has suddenly become painfully difficult. This kind of backtracking, this recalling what you no longer can do, is not at all uplifting and not the least bit positive.
I think, “What I lack is perspective”.
Yet just now I glance up from my realizations and there directly in front of my car is a young man in a motorized wheelchair. With a noticeably firm grip on the steering knob, he carefully maneuvers his way across the street. He is obviously vulnerable to every hidden rut and daunting curb. He’s paying intense attention, concentrating on getting himself safely across to the other side. His perspective is in this moment…not yesterday or tomorrow…but right now.
What am I paying attention to? Where is my concentration and perspective? Is this young man wasting his precious moments in resentment while traversing the street? Perhaps he’s never been able to walk, much less wander the cobbles of the Champs Elysees. I glimpse him at the bus stop ahead chatting and laughing with the others waiting there.
How dare I be resentful after having such an active, full, and carefree life. I have no reason to be sad or grief-stricken. So many have never had the incredible opportunity to experience what I have. If I let my focus on my memories drift from fond and free to become a source of resentment and grief, I have lost the perspective of gratitude and the joy of today’s grace.
Beneficial recollection is a matter of perspective and gratitude is the gift that keeps on giving. In my book, “Just Because You’re Suicidal Doesn’t Mean You’re Crazy”, I talk about making everyday choices on what to focus. It’s easy to lose focus on what you have and thus drift towards what you don’t, predisposing depression and in my youth, suicidality. I realized over time that I must make this important decision every day. When it is so easy to return to resentful remembrance perpetuating pain, both physical and emotional, it becomes incumbent on me to purposefully decide to do the opposite instead.
When we realize we have lost our perspective, then backtracking to grateful memory is not only positive but an enhancement of consciousness. I can make the choice, like this young man today, to keep my grip firmly on my steering and my perspective gratefully on navigating today in a positive way.