shoebox

A few years ago I posted on facebook this photograph of myself as a child. This is what I wrote about it at the time:

'From a treasure trove of never-seen-before (at least not by me) photographs found in my grand-father's house after he died. I think I never realised before to what extent my childhood identity is constructed on the basis of the photographs of my childhood that I know (have always known). These unexpected 130 new 'images' simply do not fit into my idea of who I am/was. Looking at them is an unsettling and deeply delightful experience.

It reminds me of something I read, I think in Knausgard's 'Love', about how as a father of young children it dawned on him one day that his children would create the story of their childhood from a small handful of memories and moments, and that as their father, he would never be able to predict which of the millions of ever-changing moments in their days and years they would pick for this narrative.

Anyway, here you can see that I could dance.'

i felt a need this morning to look at this photograph again. Something to do with the spring weather, the sweetness in the air, the way the woodpeckers are courting each other above 'my' tree. 

Something to do with my baby's unadulterated delight in the sunshine, a straw, my dirty trousers on the floor. 

Something to do with missing my grand-father, who not only held on to so many photographs, but was also the first and main photographer of my early years. Finding these photographs when I did felt like a gift from beyond the grave.

This morning, it also felt like a wake-up call. I arose from a dream of walking with my grand-father through the forest, compelled to find this photograph, his voice still lingering in my head. 

'Look,' he said. 

'Look carefully now. What do you see?'

I see bliss. 

I have often wondered about the red thread. What is it that has kept with me/by me through the years, the lands, the dreams, the masks, the endless cell regeneration. 

What is the thread connecting the pieces, from the child i was to the woman i am? 

Based on mind memory, i would have said 'mind', i would have said 'memory', i would have said 'pain'.

Based on my grand-father's dream wisdom and magic eye, i would say bliss.

Bliss is the thread that runs through my life.

(just writing this down makes my heart expand to the size of the Sun)

'Anyway, here you can see that I knew bliss.'