no, i'm not haunted

befriending the ghosts of sacrifices

A friend asked me recently, in a handwritten letter from a place I once called home, “Are you haunted by the ghosts of the sacrifices you experienced?” No, not haunted, I thought, yet they are certainly there. I see ghosts in the most unexpected places, but they follow me only with their sunken eyes as I pass by. I acknowledge their presence, sometimes I smile, and I go on my way. I’m not bothered by their presence, but they do appear in all manner of places. They represent a myriad of sacrifices that I have experienced, from the girls I have loved and lost to the places I have lived in and left to the past selves I have been and evolved past to become who I am today.

There is one ghost in particular that I have become good friends with. I used to be worried that I would become haunted by the ghost of the place I felt most myself in, with its towering ponderosas and nostalgic smells. Now I know this ghost is not here to haunt me, but to teach me. From time to time, I see this ghost, too, but it does not appear nearly as often, because I have befriended it. I asked it: Why are you here? What do you want, really? And I listened to what it had to say. It taught me that becoming Better is not a metamorphosis into an unrecognizable person, it is rather a homecoming into who you always were. You cannot lose yourself! You can forget; the lies can gain a louder voice, but the true self never leaves. I came to see that the ghost of this place represented for me my truest self. But this self stayed with me. He’s still me; I’m still him. I might be more him than I ever was there. This I have learned because I’ve befriended the ghost of a place I loved. This love of a place, like all other loves, had to be sacrificed because that is how love works. Why mourn? Its memory is more with me when I act upon what it taught me. It is dead and it cannot be resurrected. But it is alive in my heart when I put into practice the lessons the ghost teaches me.

The ghosts exist because they are remnants of sacrifices. Nothing can ever be kept—in the end, the gold rusts, the place changes, the experience ends, the person leaves or dies. Sacrifice, then, is inevitable. Sacrifices are necessary evidence of love. Thus, everything and everyone I’ve ever loved becomes a ghost when it is lost. I could become haunted; I could run from these ghosts. Or I could learn their names. I could talk to them, befriend them, and let them teach me. When they teach me, the person or experience or object that the ghost represents comes to life again. With enough friendship, they come to live forever in one’s heart as an internalization of the greatest lessons from whatever was sacrificed. The ghosts that I have befriended taught me this. No, I’m not haunted—though I should befriend more ghosts. If I ask them why they appear to me, if I learn their names, they come to life again.

And because of the sacrifices I have made (because that is how love works) it’s quiet sometimes—really quiet. Sometimes it’s rolling on the floor laughing with new friends who bring out my inner theater kid, who make me feel like a little boy again—but sometimes it’s quiet, and I have come to crave this urgently. My mornings are spent in silence, kept company by a Goodwill mug of Trader Joe’s spiced chai tea while I smell the shifting seasons and watch the trees outside my window slowly change. From one morning to the next, the leaves appear to have no difference in color. Before long, they’re a different hue entirely. My heart heals this way. Imperceptible in an instant, but before I notice it my pages are filled with lists of gratitude instead of undertaking the impossible task of figuring out why they hurt me. Before long, I walk past without my blood turning cold and my stomach sinking to my floor. I wake up one morning and realize the shame which at times felt like a vice grip around my neck has loosened its hold, at least slightly. This is part of befriending ghosts, too. Getting used to their presence slowly until you don’t notice them anymore, and feel comfortable with their frequent reappearance at unexpected moments. This is why I am able to acknowledge them, flash a quick smile, perhaps even mutter a hello, and go on my way. I don’t have to stop and talk to them, but I also don’t have to pretend like I don’t see them. Like a roommate that you’re not friends with but respect, we have grown comfortable existing in each other’s spaces without the chit chat. They know my rhythms, and I’m starting to know theirs.

My walks to class and to the coffee shop where I work are quiet, too, because the aforementioned ghosts taught me this. I tore off the noise-canceling headphones because I want to hear it all: the birds, the hellos, the crickets, the wind, yes, even the construction. And thanks to those ghosts, the books on my shelf are being read (and subsequently shared), my journals are being filled, my pens running out of ink. When I feel the fire which sometimes comes to burn awhile in my chest, I fan the flames. When I feel the pang behind my eyes, whether from beauty or pain, I let it stay. I’m helping to try to transform my community, and the ghosts do not haunt me, because I have a mission. I know who I am while I don’t know where I am going. I think I like it this way. What do you want to do with that major? All I know is I want to be a lover when I grow up. I will be rich, because love’s value does not lie in reciprocity. The more you give, the richer you become, regardless of what you receive. The love was never mine to begin with; I let it flow through me. It’s the one get rich quick scheme the capitalists haven’t figured out yet—because it involves currency of the soul rather than the flesh. I learned that one from God.

Perhaps one would consider the presence of ghosts in my life a haunting. I would beg to differ: those are my friends; those are my teachers. They are dead, but they come to life again. Rather than fleeing from them, I have gotten comfortable with their presence in my life. The great irony of this life is that when one clutches desperately, they lose whatever it is they are grasping for. Money, people, experiences. Realize that the only way to keep is to let loves flow through you and let them leave you. Befriend the ghosts of your sacrifices, for this is how you bring them back to life. In this way you cannot lose them, because you resurrect these loves each time you act upon the lessons they taught. Thank God for the ghosts of sacrifices—they are the only way to hold loves in your heart without losing them.