Perhaps it is not in releasing our memories, but in accepting them, that we finally find the peace we seek.
I had something come up in the past week that was intensely important to me when I was young, yet in retrospect, at least on the surface, seemingly should be quite trivial now. It was resurfaced for me in an entirely new way, and then I found myself not only in a kind of obsessive mind trap regarding the topic, even mentioning it to an old friend, but then later berating myself for caring about it at all (and worse yet, giving it even more life by talking about it).
|From afar, it looks like a molehill...|
From a higher perspective, it's so easy to say that everything is a molehill, no matter how daunting, and in a way, that's indeed true. At that level, all of the concerns on Earth, trivial or not, are miraculously resolved.
But from the perspective of why we came to be on this Earth to begin with, if indeed we came from a place where every mountain is a molehill, could it be that we actually wanted to make mountains out of every single molehill so we could have the richest of experiences in exploring their intricate detail?