The “ancient history look” of 1950s black-and-white photos
It’s one of those typical 1950s black-and-white photos found in family albums — those of the era of the late Baby Boomers but before the 1960s when you could more easily obtain color film. It has that dated look and these days, it could simply be viewed as “back then, ancient history.” Only the car gives a clue as to the time period. The bottom line is that this picture comes across more as something found in a history book than a real moment out of a real life. So, while I’ll use some photos in this book, for a large part I am going to use paintings.
The details of a photo…
Why? First, check out the difference when viewing that same moment in full color:
Real safety is your willingness to not run away from yourself — Pema Chodron
The audience
A friend of mine asked who I was writing the book for. Almost without hesitation, I said– myself. Now in case that sounds selfish, it really isn’t. There is that old saying that before you can help another, you have to take care of yourself.
In the past, I would have answered that question differently. So many times over the years I tried to write my story in one form or another, but always, I thought I was writing it for others. After all, shouldn’t we want to help another if we can, to escape the pain we were in? A noble thought but it’s not that simple.
Each person must untie their own Gordian Knot
It’s also been said that the more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know. Hence the idea of writing a book to save another seemed arrogant, presumptuous, and flat-out wrong. I’ve spent a lifetime searching for my own answers, so how could I think I had answers for anyone else?
That might have been a bit of the pendulum swinging a little too far in the other direction, though. About the point I had decided never to write, a few key mentors in my life took issue with that. One of them–my high school English teacher who was pivotal in saving me back then, said to me: “You don’t give people answers. You tell your story. From your story, they find their own answers and untie their own Gordian knot.”
In that second, I was convinced. Her comment cemented my decision–this was a reason I could accept and write for.
Are there many good reasons to write a memoir?
Now I recently listed the number of risks in writing this kind of story, which made me wonder what, if anything, might be a good reason for doing my memoir. Maybe a few more than just “I knew my mentors were right.”
Soul Mosaic 