A hole called the past.

Yesterday I fell into a hole called the past. It was dark and deep and filled with unchangeable realities. Some of which I knew well and hurt to remember. Some of which I didn't and will never know, their secret truths lost forever to the years. And that hurts too, the not knowing. I let the past swallow me yesterday. Through anxiety and tears and disbelief, I fought against what was, against what is. As we know, that fight never ends in victory.

Today I woke up in the hole again, but it's not the tarry quicksand it was a day ago. This hole has a solid base, with steps that lead out, to the present. These steps are built with acceptance. Ya see, there's no peace in fighting unchangeable things, and the past is as unchangeable as things come.

So I decided this morning to close my eyes and breathe deeply, so deeply, into the acceptance of my past for what it is, as it is. Without judgment, without the need to know all the specifics, without shame, without control. With each breath of acceptance, I climbed another step out of the hole. With each breath, I became lighter and less committed to my anger and confusion over events that will never change.

I fell into the warmth of acceptance, total acceptance. And the hole began to close up beneath me, lifting me as it did so, to solid ground. To quiet. To the present moment.

We can choose to fight against our past, and we'll always lose the fight. We can choose to ignore our past, but it will eventually make itself known. We can choose to live in our past, though we'll deny ourselves the many gifts of the present.

Or we can choose to accept our past, so completely, that no matter what happened to us in our lives, we are able to breathe into those realities with a newfound sense of peace, and with a deep understanding that it is a part of us without becoming us, and that every single thing we've experienced contributes to the great light we have to share with our world. Now.