(no subject)
I've decided that sometimes having good memories makes me dissatisfied. I tend to cling to them, to long for them, to want things back as they used to be. I'm not talking about monumental things, but rather the tiny, seemingly inconsequential things that make life that much happier: a particular dinner you had with friends, that perfect date, the most spectacular sunset you've ever seen.
As time passes, these things get ever more perfect in your mind's eye. The imperfection of the moment gets pushed aside until it vanishes completely, leaving you with an altered version of the truth. It looks, feels, and smells like a remembered reality, but it's really just the skeleton.
Who remembers the telephone poles and electrical lines that were partially obscuring their view of the most beautiful sunset they'd seen in ages? No one, that's who. They're not important, so your mind wipes them away. There are no annoying noises, no disgusting stenches in your perfect memory. It's complete and utter bliss from beginning to end.
On the really bad days you can place yourself within your remembered world and relive the glory of the moment. It's a hidden refuge, a place of personal happiness, and-- above all-- a reminder that things were once infinitely better than they are now. This is important. Some days, you may have to measure your breaths against your memories, drag yourself out of bed with the sound of decades-old laughter ringing in your ears.
The problem comes when you start to measure your current moments with the memories of the past. This might be beautiful now, but it doesn't compare with what I saw/heard/tasted then. What happens when you spend months-- or even years-- pining after something you had before? Just this-- it doesn't match up. It doesn't even begin to compare to the perfect memory you've tweaked into existence.
In short, it's just not the same. Even if it is technically "the same", it's still not the same.
How depressing, right? How horribly disappointing, to never be able to re-experience our most treasured moments. To never be able to create a new memory that's as wonderful as the old.
Luckily, it doesn't work that way all the time. There are some things that we can get back. Sometimes, an old album is even better when you rediscover it five years later. Maybe you find that your memory of that perfect pizza was woefully inadequate once you finally get to re-savor the real thing.
It happens.
But I've found that it's hard to re-experience people. You cannot force a magical moment back into being. I will never again know what it feels like to spend a flawless weekend playing house and Barbies with cousins, siblings, or friends. The magic is gone from that type of moment, and I'm too old to get it back. That exquisite conversation, those perfectly written letters, that moment when you connected infinitely with another soul... Those moments can't be fabricated. You can long for them, for another flash of connection, but you cannot create them on a whim. They happen, but only of their own accord.
Jan Glidewell famously said, "You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present."
And she was right.
Don't fall into the trap of longing for what you used to have. Don't let your memories torture you as your present fails to live up to your past.
It's my belief that if you just stop trying so hard to find those extraordinary moments, they'll start popping up all over the place. So tomorrow when it rains, I won't remind myself how much I love the rain or how wonderful it was to dance in the first warm shower of the season three years ago.
I will listen to myself in that moment. I will feel the drops on my eyelashes.
And that will be all.
As time passes, these things get ever more perfect in your mind's eye. The imperfection of the moment gets pushed aside until it vanishes completely, leaving you with an altered version of the truth. It looks, feels, and smells like a remembered reality, but it's really just the skeleton.
Who remembers the telephone poles and electrical lines that were partially obscuring their view of the most beautiful sunset they'd seen in ages? No one, that's who. They're not important, so your mind wipes them away. There are no annoying noises, no disgusting stenches in your perfect memory. It's complete and utter bliss from beginning to end.
On the really bad days you can place yourself within your remembered world and relive the glory of the moment. It's a hidden refuge, a place of personal happiness, and-- above all-- a reminder that things were once infinitely better than they are now. This is important. Some days, you may have to measure your breaths against your memories, drag yourself out of bed with the sound of decades-old laughter ringing in your ears.
The problem comes when you start to measure your current moments with the memories of the past. This might be beautiful now, but it doesn't compare with what I saw/heard/tasted then. What happens when you spend months-- or even years-- pining after something you had before? Just this-- it doesn't match up. It doesn't even begin to compare to the perfect memory you've tweaked into existence.
In short, it's just not the same. Even if it is technically "the same", it's still not the same.
How depressing, right? How horribly disappointing, to never be able to re-experience our most treasured moments. To never be able to create a new memory that's as wonderful as the old.
Luckily, it doesn't work that way all the time. There are some things that we can get back. Sometimes, an old album is even better when you rediscover it five years later. Maybe you find that your memory of that perfect pizza was woefully inadequate once you finally get to re-savor the real thing.
It happens.
But I've found that it's hard to re-experience people. You cannot force a magical moment back into being. I will never again know what it feels like to spend a flawless weekend playing house and Barbies with cousins, siblings, or friends. The magic is gone from that type of moment, and I'm too old to get it back. That exquisite conversation, those perfectly written letters, that moment when you connected infinitely with another soul... Those moments can't be fabricated. You can long for them, for another flash of connection, but you cannot create them on a whim. They happen, but only of their own accord.
Jan Glidewell famously said, "You can clutch the past so tightly to your chest that it leaves your arms too full to embrace the present."
And she was right.
Don't fall into the trap of longing for what you used to have. Don't let your memories torture you as your present fails to live up to your past.
It's my belief that if you just stop trying so hard to find those extraordinary moments, they'll start popping up all over the place. So tomorrow when it rains, I won't remind myself how much I love the rain or how wonderful it was to dance in the first warm shower of the season three years ago.
I will listen to myself in that moment. I will feel the drops on my eyelashes.
And that will be all.