How to remember

Tonight I spent some time remembering my trip to England. I mean, really remembering. Not just looking at the photos I arranged in a book, but taking time to examine the pictures and see if they match up with the memories in my head. Filling in the scene just beyond the borders of the frame and specifically naming each location, each event. Sometimes I worry that my memories have been reduced to what was captured on film (or rather, on a digital memory card) but tonight, I forced myself beyond what I had brought back and focused on what I experienced there. And for a few fleeting moments, I was breathless with wonder at what I saw. I was grasping for the words to describe the natural beauty around me. I was lonely and tired and weary of hiking. I was silly and chatty. I was hungry - both for my lunch (which never came, that first day) and for the adventure I knew was coming. My eyes were dazzled as I squinted into the first second of daylight and my skin was cooled by the rough touch of ancient stone. For those few moments, I let each picture take me back.

Isn't that what remembering should be? Not just reminding ourselves of what happened and when and where, but more of a personal interaction with the experiences that touched us in some way? I have a pretty good memory; I'm good at "remembering" dates, names, sequences, details. But how often do I connect those details with something deeper? Not nearly enough.

I was a little bit lonely tonight. Not because Tim was doing something else (believe me, I understand the pull of a new book) but because I was at a loss at what to do with myself. After frantically working on Christmas quilts every free second I had for three months, I wasn't sure how to fill my time tonight. A new project? A book? A bubble bath? I like to be busy; I like to have work and lists and a concrete set of accomplishments at the end of the day. Free time is usually something to be filled, not wasted. Lately, I have been reminded that busyness is different from progress, and if we are too busy to enjoy what we do, we aren't getting anywhere.

Looking at my photos and actually remembering what it was like to be in England woke up the part of me that finds - and then takes - time to think and feel. And now? I've connected with moments that changed who I am and all of a sudden, I am writing again. I'm enjoying not just what I'm doing right now, but what it is that I do. Should I be surprised? Probably not. I'm remembering who I am - not just the list, but the person.