Everything we seem to know about has a beginning.
Some things we know about have ended.
Despite the frequency of beginnings and endings in our everyday existence we still seem to have great trouble with the start and completion of cycles; at least I sometimes do.
Whether it is the acceptance of an end, or the recognition that something else needs to start I frequently find myself back beyond now, in that city of dreams lined with streets of memories.
When I visit the past I often gain healing and strength to progress; I receive salve for the pain of current endings. The past reminds me that situations can end but I do not have to end with them. These memories of the past are like a favourite book of poetry that I never tire of delving into.
Some memories never end, so even when reality has to move on I can still clearly recall the best ones, like the love of my mother.
When I look back through my journals I know that I have known great love. In 1995 someone told me that they thought I was spoilt, my response was that the only possibility of me being spoilt may have been “by the beautiful love of my mother” or “the love of my significant other” – and I don’t really consider that spoilt, I think I have been repeatedly blessed by sharing love with wonderful people: family and friends. Anything else I have gained I have worked really hard for it.
My memory tells me that.
I think it is necessary that we have beginnings and endings otherwise life may end up being a boring repetition of events ... or a goldfish bowl existence.
So, I for one, and glad that some things end and others have the chance to begin; it allows new growth.