Time Heals All Wounds: True or False?

I think that the witty and contrary statement by John Lennon (shot dead peace activist, member of the Beatles) that "Time wounds all heels" is probably more consistently accurate. That rings true with laws of karma and Biblical statements like "Vengeance is mine saith the Lord." Bad shit will bite you in the ass.

In regard to time healing old wounds, in my experience this gets a 'yes' and 'no'. A misstep can bring back an old injury with alarming rapidity. A flash back can bring back an old trauma full force, putting you in the exact emotional tornado as when it first happened. Yet, at the same time, if healing does happen, you or your body doesn't necessarily forget past wounds, but the pain goes away over time.

So. When things are getting better, but not really, what to do? I expect that this is when the attitude adjustment has to happen. Gratitude, forgiveness, praise, and letting go are in order.

I have one example of time healing me. I probably have a thousand. In 1971, we moved to Emerson College in Sussex, England. This was a Rudolf Steiner inspired school of Spiritual Science, The college was doing very well at that time for many reasons. For one thing, the dollar was God. the pound was worth little. The school was practically free for Americans. Another factor was the incredible faculty who were there at that time. Another thing was that the 60s were over. The drug scene was getting ugly, the Vietnam War was winding down and hippies around the world were looking for something more healthy, more mentally alive, more spiritual. Findhorn, Auroville, and other spiritual communities around the world were flourishing.

For us, the difficult thing was that the school was not prepared to accept or house families and that year, we had a two year old child. They put us into a house in the village of Forest Row, Sussex. The house was fine except it was a bit isolated. The problem was this German couple who lived upstairs. Hermann yelled at his wife all the time. She was meek and tried to please him, but it never seemed to happen. They were both pretty miserable and we heard it all. That and other stuff. I grew an antipathy to him the likes of which I have never experienced before or since. He made my skin crawl. He made me mad. Once when I was so mad at him I couldn't see strait, I called him a "Big Fat Pig!"

Pretty silly because he was a small tight mean man. I think that was the insult I had used when fighting with my little sister many long years before. After Christmas we moved to different housing. A few years later I ran into him in Chicago and had absolutely no reaction except, "Oh hi Hermann."

But traumatic events seem to come back with the full emotional load. One day when my oldest child was not yet two, we were at the coast in Oregon. We had been playing a "you can't catch me game.' I turned away from A. and spoke to her Dad for a minute. When I looked up, she had gone under the fence blocking the huge cliff that dropped off into the crashing Pacific Ocean. I started for her yelling "stop" and she thought it was still the game. She was turning to go over the cliff when Patrick got to her and swooped her into his arms. Just remembering this has my heart pounding. Over the years I have had flash backs when I see a kid  in anything resembling a similar circumstance. And that one doesn't even call for forgiveness. Gratitude abounds.

Healing is a mysterious business.