soozphotoz: Sunday Scribblings

First Memories for Sunday Scribblings

God: What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here yet.
Me: I know...but I do a lot things I'm not supposed to.
God: Good point. What do you need?
Me: I hate to bother you but...
God: No you don't, you do it all the time.
Me: Good point. I want to know if you believe in time travel.
God: Believe? Or allow?
Me: Believe.
God: Sure, I do it all time. Why do you ask?
Me: Well, could you take me with you please...I want to go back to that day when I was little and cut myself with my Grandpa's razor.
God: [long pause] Why that particular day?
Me: Because I think it's my first memory and I have this paper to write. I want to get the facts straight and you're my most reliable source. And I don't really think my parents will remember...
God: So your first memory is an act of disobedience.
Me: Isn't everyone's?
God: Good point. First tell me what you remember.
Me: Let's see. I remember that it was one of those old fashioned straight edge razors and next to it was a stubby little brush... I remember being told not to touch it and then I remember touching it.
God: Anything else?
Me: Hmmm. Oh yes. I remember bleeding. Maybe crying, but I'm not sure. I think I was too scared to cry, knowing that I would get caught.
God: Do you have any early memories that are not associated with disobedience?
Me: Yes, of course.
God: Go on.
Me: The time that my Grandpa taught me about the bark on a tree. I was young enough to be carried. He took me to the tree in front of our apartment and one of us pulled the bark from the trunk and I remember holding it in my hand and him teaching me the name for it. Later, he gave me a nickel for remembering what I had learned.
God: Again, your grandfather. Tell me what you remember about him.
Me: Grandpa was tall and lean and a very quiet man. He was a carpenter by trade. My cousins were fairly afraid of him because he seemed to always have a stern look on his face but I wasn't afraid of him at all. I didn't know the name for "respect" at the time but that best describes what I replaced for fear of him. I believed that my dad knew everything but that because Grandpa was older, I reasoned that he must know even more. And he loved to walk. And he would answer my questions about the things we saw when I walked with him...and he seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. And he made me feel safe.
God: So your first positive memory is associated with learning or acquiring knowledge.
Me: Yes, I suppose so....I hadn't really thought of it that way. Disobedience, trees, knowledge...hmmm.
God: Would going back to that day alter what you now know?
Me: No, I suppose not.
God: What do you now know?
Me: If I tell you, will you give me a nickel?
God: Sure, if you will just get to the point.
Me: Let's see...I know that memories can serve, or maybe even are meant to serve, as building blocks of learning. Learning comes in many forms...from the experiences of those who are wiser than we, from our own experiences including both the successes and the failures, and through more formal means like reading and so on. Is that right?
God: [handing over the nickel] It's close enough.
Me: Thank you. Just one more thing.
God:[muttering to Himself] Isn't there always...
Me: Was it really an apple?
God: Does it really matter?
Me: Good point.

16 Comments

Wow, wow and wow. This is WONDERFUL. It makes me feel like I have gone to a therapist who did role playing with me, him taking the identity of God, and me taking the identity of my true self. It was great to read your story - so pardon me that I adopted the exercise myself. It has helped me connect with and process bits and pieces of memory. I wish I had such a wise therapist to go to!

Posted by: Rebekah | 07 June 2006 at 13:00