To My Jungian Scholar Friend

This is in response to a dear friend’s post on revisiting her journals while writing her dissertation.

"Swimming in my journals . . . in the past . . . in story . . . in regret and heartache . . . in the redemptive nature of Psyche . . ."

I have spent my entire life in that "Place",  and lately have noticed I pass through the pages of my journals even while walking my dog on paths of asphalt or sand. Today, the major difference is,  I find myself frequently weeping now as I revisit my past thoughts and memories. Strangely, I am finding a beauty in the experience, as I realize now, how overwhelmingly beautiful even the bad experiences are in retrospect. If I were a tree, all these aged thoughts and memories, created the individual leaves that gave me the once, such glorious display, still glorious, but now turning a golden red and falling.