FACES

I like 'faces'. I'm fascinated when I look at and into faces. Drawn to what faces naturally express and can unexpectedly reveal, yet, more than any singular moment's emotion, I look to learn of the person's legacy. We think of legacy most often in the context of "what we wish to leave behind" or how we wish to be remembered. That's our personal legacy to the world. We all want our lives to 'count for something'. We would wish to have profound impact on those we love and to whom we are committed, as well to leave a mark on society as a whole.

Yet, what animates and beguiles me is the legacy to which we are born. In my last blog, referring to an elderly knitter's hands, I referred to 'each creased and pleated depression is a memory cherished'. The
'legacy' I am invoking are the psychological pleats, cuts, and furrows accumulated and stashed in our minds, hearts and souls - unintended remnants strewn like emptied liquor bottles discarded in an alley that lay there in recesses unnoticed until they impede our way or we accidentally stumble over them.

Our consideration of what we leave behind is curiously, and often, totally devoid of what scarring marked our psyches. Questions of what our hearts harbor are left to psychologists only when our lives have become desperate and too painful. I wonder if earlier examination of an individual's inherited legacy would lead to an earlier recognition of the inherent burdens we carry and pave easier ways to unload them. Is it possible "Legacy Therapy" has a future?

My attempt is to identify with their legacy. I clear myself to make accessible the possibility that I can open my heart to their pasts and our shared futures.