Field
of Memory
“I
have more questions than answers in this world as do most poets and writers.
The field of memory we exist in is absolutely encompassing and is both a
question and an answer. It is memory that provides impetus, fuels the brain,
and propels the corn plant from seed to fruit.”
Joy
Harjo
Joy
Harjo, our Poet Laurette, claims that her generation (and mine) are the “door
to memory.” I remember being astounded to realize that my grandmother Mayda,
lived from the horse and buggy days until the space age. Over the course of her
lifetime, everything that could possibly change, did. She lived through two
world wars, the great depression, that Spanish flu pandemic, women’s suffrage, the
polio pandemic, the development of antibiotics, the civil rights movement, our
landing on the moon, and from Scot Joplin’s Ragtime to the Beatles. So much
happens during any long life. We, who are older, carry memories from the past
like eggs in a basket, precious cargo to be cared for.
My
parents were children of the Great Depression—they lost almost everything. So,
I grew up believing that waste is unacceptable, even immoral. They taught me
how to “make-do.” How to live without every convenience and new bauble. How to
grow my own food, how to make my own clothes and how to feed myself and others
in a sturdy but non-luxurious way. I didn’t grow up deprived, though sometimes
in my youth, I felt deprived, as I’m sure most teenagers do. They taught me reasonable
prudence. I remember that now, in my old age, and I am so grateful for those
skills.
My
children have grown up with much more in the way of financial freedom than I
did. They are not spoiled, but they are perhaps a little surprised that they
now must labor so hard in the vineyard, so to speak. They came of age during in
the last economic downturn, and I’m sure they question my assurances to them when
they were growing up that they “could be anything they wanted to be.” That did
not match their reality, any more than it matched mine—but then, no one told me
that that I could be anything I wanted. Girls in my time had many limitations,
and not many expectations. My sons have gained some of the skills taught to me
by my parents, and they have acquired many new skills and abilities beyond any
that I have ever had. And they will, no doubt, carry those forward to future
generations.
I love
the fact that life is layered this way. That each generation shapes the next,
and each generation stretches forward to bring in new skills and abilities. We
also reach back. We remember the mistakes of our parents, and we try our best
not to repeat them; we will have plenty of our own, to be sure. Joy Harjo says
that where there are no mistakes, there is no poetry. And no country music
either! Thank God for mistakes.
When we do our
psychological/spiritual work, when we work to heal ourselves emotionally, it
carries backward to those who have gone before us. Healing ourselves also heals
them—because life is a continuum extending in both directions. Love flows up
and down that continuum, and our emotional healing goes with it. That is why it
is so important for us to wake up—to become conscious of how we live. We carry
the capacity for healing in our hands, and in our hearts, and in our lives.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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