Not long ago I participated in a writing workshop. These are always sobering experiences for me when I realize how little talent I have developed so far, and how beautifully some others can express themselves. This was no different. The workshop was an opportunity for self-examination, and upon reflection I decided to focus on a small, good thing I had once done. My writing was pedestrian and in looking back, unduly self-laudatory, but it made me write, and reflect, and that made me think about why....
Why is it that I can remember everything I have ever done wrong, but can't remember anything I have done right?
Why can I always conjure up the times I have hurt someone, failed someone (or myself), or otherwise come up short?
Why does my memory edit out joy for sorrow? Laughter for tears? Pleasure for pain?
When I mentioned that I could remember everything I have done wrong, one of the other participants in the workshop nodded in agreement, but as much as misery loves company it was of little solace.
Lately I have been back to my old school, to places I haven't visited in years, seen people I haven't seen in a while, and much as I want to remember "the good times" I find myself revisiting old mistakes, old hurts, ghosts I am loathe to face. and yet I welcome them, why?
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