Buried Treasure

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

The thoughts cross the mind periodically throughout the day. A stare of remembrance clicks the mind into a yay or a nay, a kind of deep and unknown acknowledgement.Sometimes the messages of memories present in the forms of, let’s say clouds, or rain. A smile, a wave or a snub, an ignore.

All are hints of what should be versus what really is. We struggle to take it all in and vomit that stuff we cannot hold onto any longer. Life is a roller coaster. We ride. We get off. We ride, we become sick. We ride, we see the world in a dizzying array of rays of life and hope, dread and gloom.

Like life, we just gotta ride it out. Surf the moments like a wave. It will get better.

This too shall pass.

When the motions and emotions hold the anger in like a knife cutting the core and it does not pass, we struggle with how to accept a past that can’t explain itself clearly and defining-ly. In the heat of an exploded moment we misinterpreted what we were doing was a fight back, a push back on the injustice that belied our weary wounds from so many years of not fighting back. We are mad as hell. Heck now and maybe even then all we wanted to do was rewrite the script to show what a good person would do in a bad situation.

The right thing to do.

When we finally awaken from our wandering selves, in that furious heat of the worst moment we realize we cannot change the past. We can, by God’s grace come to terms with it. In these jangling times, we see familiar patterns of a past we would prefer to forget as the feelings surface daily as an intruder pops into our head whenever it pleases. We recognize it for what it is.

Jangling.

Our body shakes with furor and our minds go right back to….there. Standing naked in a stark room where someone is in the process of tearing us down into the tiny pieces of emotional meat they devour before our very eyes. We cannot fight back.

Frozen in fear and dis belief. Uttering not a sound, as we walk away, burying the moment is the only alternative. Put a smile on and forge ahead. Future episodes include and involve others of raised voices and fists flying and blood. Terrifying and familiar all at the same time. Looked at through the eyes of a child and then buried deep within the core as an adult. The only way to flee is away, somewhere, anywhere until the quiet comes back. Some neighbors talked, others listened.

Thank God the calm returns in the form of a bond.

Rumination and reflection guide our ways into adulthood in a cycle of regretful forgetfulness and hesitant remembrances. Pushing the emotions and our self- respect further and further down into the recesses of our core. We think we are alone. We could fly off the handle and try to throw the moment away, but civilized society frowns on some forms of self-expression. Especially violent ones. So. Down it goes in a lump.

Riding the fretful urge, surfing the wave proves to be a productive way to silence the demons and settle the core. We learn to sit through the feeling long enough for the urge to pass. (td). We are tough, and we need to be a friend to our own self. We are ok. Judging the past is a waste of productive time. It is time to live life. Through the process we realize we were never alone. There was someone always on our side.

There is someone who is always on our side.

Life can be a beautiful mix of love and hate, that is for sure. A treasure moment arises as persons sit, visit and reflect of shared experiences of a shared past. He knew. You knew. Yet neither spoke a word. A word would be too embarrassing to admit what went on behind the scenes of an otherwise idyllic life. A knowing glance or a choked up-feeling blurts its way out from time to time and is evidence of the terror, and all the evidence needed. A rolled-eyed acknowledgment of what was. What is in the room now is two survivors dealing with a past they navigated with no grace and a lot of hurt. Coming more than once to the feeling we deserved what we got. Got what we deserved. Same difference. I guess.

We were there.

As the hair grays, the posture stoops and the sight isn’t as crystal clear as it once was, there is a bond. A crystal clear bond of survivors who may not have always gotten it right, or best or even at all. The price of having one another’s back in the worst of times is better in the best of times. A knowing now. The last half phase of life at its simplest form can erase the hurt from the past in the form of acceptance that what happened-happened.

Put the past where it belongs—away. Or is the fear and regret permanently cemented.

It takes a like-minded experienced human with the assistance of man’s best friend to put it all together, wrap it up and send it off into smithereens. Putting our own thoughts on trial to judge what we did, and what we could have done. Taking ownership of it all is a coward’s way out. Asking for help is a strong way into a life of harmony. Most of us have thoughts that influence emotions and vice versa.

Finding the buried treasure of our own crammed down core is an exercise worth sharing with a good-and-honest-flawed another. It helps to both break the ice and break down the hidden devices that drive us to various vices. Vices, generally are fickle and are not our friend—getting us from day to day. Honest understanding is when someone realizes “its” gonna get ugly—the business of healing—but it is worth every penny and buried treasure of hurt, hate, confusion and pleasure.

Pleasure? How can this be. Pleasure is a happy feeling of satisfaction and enjoyment. Coming to terms with the way we are raised is some of the most important work we can do. Being able to spend some time with a tumultuous task of hurt takes a gargantuan amount of self-reflection and forgiveness. An admittance that we cannot do everything on our own. I was there. So were you.

Recently, when unpacked, our buried treasure of feelings and confusion became wonderful validation that what happened, happened. There is great pleasure in unburdening the past with a treasured friend, brother, man. Unleashing some wondrous realization of togetherness. Yes, at times life was ugly. Today calm and beautiful looking out on the horizon of life as it is. As it was. As it will be now. God willing.

A buried treasure.🪎