A young man that I work with loves to camp and travel. As I did at his age, he set a goal to visit all National Parks. So he asked me the big question,  “What is your favorite park?” Favorite one? I told him that I could not narrow it down to one, but I would think about it and let him know. In the meantime, as we cleared firebreaks and drove in the 4-wheeler, I told him about some of my favorite experiences in numerous parks. How fun to have a young person show interest in my life.

I continued to think about my experiences long after work ended. I realized as I pranced down that memory trail that I do not have any bad memories related to exploring the outdoors. I can remember feeling a sense of awe and joy as I witnessed the beauty in nature. Every new vista brought contentment. Every new critter or plant helped me learn how life is interconnected. I felt empowerment as I set up camp and took hikes. One time, by myself, I put snow chains on my tires while perched near a drop off in Yellowstone.

Sometimes I sought solitude in nature to deal with a bad experience, and I always found solace. Guaranteed. I created great memories, even if I headed out broken-hearted or overwhelmed.  I always felt whole and at peace outdoors.

I was not always alone; I created adventures for my son and me while I raised him. Even when I drove my car onto the beach in Mexico, where it remained for days knee-deep in sand, the experience was an adventure. We still laugh about being stuck and eventually finding someone to pull us out. Everything always worked out. I do not have one bad memory or regret.

However, until my young saint asked a simple question, I was dwelling on mistakes I’ve made. Dreams that did not pan out. Failed relationships. Difficult work experiences.  How did life turn out versus the dreams of a young me? How could I do that, or say that, or act that way? What was I thinking? Why didn’t I try harder? Why couldn’t I love better?  I was walking down a different memory lane, the one littered with my regrets and disasters. I rehashed my propensity towards selfishness, self-absorption. Impatience.  I was traveling into the dark side, the opposite place.

I imagine that every aging person takes this journey. I reminded myself to remember that those tough memories are as important as the great ones. We must all do some wrestling with the totality of our experiences thus far. We must forgive ourselves and others as we enter our golden years. This is how those memories, good, bad and otherwise hone our experiences into wisdom and help us find a new purpose.

copyright, Jane Willis, 2016