Memories are little touches across the worlds. Being in them I am truly there, all my senses, scents, sound of wood, of door closing … just that slight grinding, jam-stuck, then the sudden snap of closure … taste of beer, tea, currants, rocket, strawberries.
It’s a completely sensual reality.
This one was brought on by Bach’s Partita #3 for solo violin – a recent recording at the Wigmore Hall, London. It brought back my first husband, Bob, our flat, garden, our black Alsatian dog, the spring light. Paul being there – Paul and Bob were good friends, it’s how I met Paul.
Paul is passionate about classical music. When we got together he instilled that passion in me. He loved to dance to Bach and the Partitas are much about dance. I was a professional dancer, so we met there, coming together from each side of the music.
Oh, memories are wonderful things. To relive a moment just from a note on a violin. And not just one moment. This memory was days and weeks, surrounding me leaving Bob and going to live with Paul, 36 years ago.
We all managed to retain friendship despite the changes in relationship. Bittersweet, that memory now, so often memories hold both sides of the coin, enabling us to know light and dark, that they are one whole. The Celtic shamanic tradition weaves through and round this duality, this pairing of opposites, to show us they are and/and not either/or. Memories so often transport me to worlds and places to remind me what joy is … this twining with the threads of pain and pleasure. “The elements so mixed that a spoon might stand up in them”.
This walking between worlds gives me another gift. I know the memory so intimately when I remember it that I know it still lives. Everything, everywhere, always lives.
Simplicity might call this reincarnation and that will do as a starting point. For me, reincarnation is not a linear concept, I don’t see the Buddhist “necklace of pearls” as a strand of lives following one after the other.
I find the concept of the dandelion seed-head to be the way I see it. Imagine a sphere of filaments, at the base of each is the single seed and at the outer end of each is a single seed.-parachute The filaments radiate out from the central ball.
Now imagine yourself sat on a seed.-parachute To get to another seed you can slide down the filament to the centre – centre yourself – and then go up another filament to another seed-parachute … to another life. You walk from Life to Life, from one seed-world to another. You are able to transport yourself from one life to another, from one time to another, from one memory to another. And you can return to your “now”.
But all the seed-worlds, lives, are all still there, myriads of them, all at the same time, all in existence together. Everything, everywhere, always lives.
Memory enables this, a form of journeying, triggered by the smallest thing.