The Sound of one Million Memories.....

The second time I ever heard "Careless Whisper" was on the plane leaving Madeira. The saxophone had barely started when something in my chest gave way.  I was nineteen. I didn't even really know who George Michael was yet. But I knew what that song held — seven months of a life I was leaving behind, pressed into four minutes of music like flowers dried between the pages of a book.  The first time I heard it was the day I arrived. It was playing on the radio when I walked into Mae Amelia's house for the first time — she was the first member of the Church ever on that island, and she had built a small apartment in her garage just for the missionaries. She became our second mother before we'd even unpacked. She cooked every meal. She let us eat with her family. She had this way of making you feel like you had always belonged there, even when you'd just arrived from somewhere else entirely — which, for me, was always. I remember noticing the song that first day and thinking: this place is going to be something. And it absolutely was.

Have you experienced those moments where you hear a song and suddenly you are taken immediately back to a particular memory? Sometimes it can be a smell, a phrase or even a word that can trigger those memories.  It is an amazing experience that almost takes on a life of its' own.... you weren't thinking about that time, place or person, but suddenly in an instant, you are there, fully immersed in the whole experience all over again.  Not only do the details seem crisp, but you can almost remember the smell too.... Mostly what you remember though is the feeling.  The sensation of your whole body reliving each step all over again.  A smile forms, time stops and you forget the here and now for a brief moment.  The music has this magical quality of stirring up these forgotten photographs, like finding an old book on the shelf and pulling it out, dusting it off, looking at the cover for a moment before opening the cover to find some name and date of someone who gave you that book.  A smile forms as you remember the circumstance of how you received that book, the person who generously, graciously and thoughtfully placed it in your care as a gift.  Then you begin to fan through the pages......Underlined or highlighted passages jump out...you re-read those golden nuggets that made an impact then, and probably still do.  You think about how the power of a few words and how they shaped who you are now, how you think, and the choices you made since.... You pause, reflect and retrospect..... yes... the meaning still remains....still after all these years.. still relevant, still deep, still immovable.   Somehow,  it is still important now even though the book has been passively waiting on that shelf for years.  It is as if it knows it's own role.... to be consistently there until that next impulse moment causes it to be drawn again.....  It knows it will still stir the heart like disrupting a pile of leaves on a blustery windy day.  It is very patient and somehow.....knowing isn't it? 

"Remembering" to me.....is the sound of one million memories... 

 Memories that really never fade, rather they get put aside....just out of reach at times.  But once remembered, they are amazingly "present", ready at a moment's notice to do their job.  To articulate every detail, every emotion, every element that composes that memory, to help us "remember".... The subtle "creak" of the memory door is that sound of a million memories.....  Remembering is the invitation to open..... return and drink deeply from never-ending well of mind-blowing emotions.  Every memory is its own unique destination-- it's own language, culture, tone, and timbre.... it knows its' own feel.  That feeling is never forgotten, just like my "Careless Whisper" moment on that plane.  So I wasn't prepared, seven months later, for what those opening notes would do to me on that plane. Every face. Every doorstep. Every meal around Mae Amelia's table. A million moments, flooding back all at once, before Madeira had even disappeared beneath the clouds.

I am hearing a lot of "creaks" these days..... kids leaving home, changing jobs, friends no longer seen....  I am grateful that when I hear them that what comes after is almost always inviting, beautiful and so often feels like "home"..... like falling water over rocks... the hard part comes in knowing I can't stay.... I have to wake up....yes, maybe even "grow up", to return to today in order to find what it takes to make the next memory for future perusing and visiting.

May you hear the "creak" of your own remembering...that you too can return, soak, learn and marvel at what you find....nothing is so sweet and powerfully moving than those little "trips" that capture your imagination, refine your purpose and reminds you who you really are.... Remember well.

"The Sound of one million memories is the eternal echo of a life well lived"