The past still matters.
It lives in a different way.
But it's there.
I'm not sure if this is singular to me, or if everyone feels this way but sometimes I feel as though I am a mandala of my experiences...or a patchwork quilt.
The people that have touched me in my life are written in small stitches, or large sloppy sewing that is part of what builds me and is a layer of who I am.
The art of life intrigues me - the danger, or adventure...certainly the connection and chemistry of people. The way one person's hand feels on your arm versus another.
And in these ways all loves stay within us...each with their own kind of home and mark -
I don't believe that it has to stay that way - I think you can do some cosmic cleaning and rid yourself of the strings that will hold you back, or keep you from true love....
The difficulty of course, is knowing what to cut, and what to keep.
(Mandala pictured above is from The Mandala Project)