By MICHAEL ARMIJO
I once read a story about a 9-year old boy named Travis, whose mother died at home one day. Without telling a soul, little Travis covered her body with a coat and he placed sheets of notebook paper over her face. He learned to fix his own meals – mostly frozen pizza, cereal, and soup – cut his own hair, and attended school without fail. He did this for over a month because he was afraid he’d be placed into foster care if anyone found out his mother passed away. The mother’s body was eventually discovered by family friends. Travis begged them not to call the police.
When I read this story I was moved to write about it from my perspective. A friend asked me why I sought out areas in life that are so traumatic, so emotional, and so powerful. He asked me why I seemed to focus on elements of life that are painful, emotional and disturbing. “Why remember,” he asked.
It amazes me what life brings you. It’s like an old, enormous tree that sits in your neighborhood. One day it catches your eye and you tell yourself, “Gee, I never noticed that huge obstacle in front of me before.”
Although that tree has been there throughout your life and you’ve had to go around it most every day, you just never really looked at it. You’re so busy trying to survive that the small detour has become a part of your life, your routine.
I kind of feel that my emotions are like that tree; I’ve driven past them for so many years without really paying attention. I kept wondering why it took so long to get anywhere productive; why life was such a hassle for me. And then one day, for some reason, I finally noticed this tremendous obstruction in my life that I was going around and avoiding over and over again. I became fed up and decided I wasn’t going to avoid it anymore – I was going to drive right through that humongous tree of emotions.
It was never my plan to have to go and examine the landscaping of my life. I thought I was supposed to follow the path that was laid out before me. But somewhere along the way, I developed a source of confidence that somehow convinced me that the path laid out before me was vulnerable to manipulation. I realized that I could change where I was going and how I was going to get there.
I believe there are experiences in life that give you freedom and confidence, but sometimes you end up in a stagnant period where you have to take a moment to sit back and reflect. And during this reflection you might sometimes feel resentful of the circumstances that are before you. You might realize that someone in your life planted seeds that grew into this enormous tree that distanced you from the success you feel you deserve. And somehow – although you feel as though you never intended to water those seeds – this enormous tree has grown, survived, and even thrived in your life.
When you realize this, you might have a tendency to be angry or resentful of the irresponsibility of someone else’s sowing. You can’t change what has happened in your life, and that in itself can be an obstacle preventing you from going forward. It’s puzzling why we remember those horrible situations that have scarred our lives with darkness and pain. But as my dear friend said to me in a simple question, “Why remember?”
After hearing those two words I realized I had no answer real for that question. I then felt compelled to just let the darkness go and try to remember how great life really is. I can appreciate that although the huge tree may have strong roots, with a little work I can uproot the unhappiness.
And just like Travis, who used a few pieces of notebook paper to cover a painful sight, hoping that no one would discover it, we can ignore the obvious, or use those pages to write a new chapter in our lives. A chapter that will include a new path – right smack through that enormous tree.
