I often like to think that memories last in our minds like books on a library shelf. The older we get the more storage we seem to need for these memories and the more we start cross-filing them under different categories as we link things back and forth through time, through events, through people. Much as a book can be categorized in a million different ways, so can our memories, and we pick and we choose and we find commonalities and we group them together, and we see patterns. I think we see a lot of patterns in this world of ours that are unexplainable, and sometimes someone comes along and tells you about another linkage, that hasn't happened yet, and you can either choose to believe or disbelieve, and maybe that becomes the bridge to whether that event happens, or not.
Everything you do is a consequence of something you've decided upon, and as much as religion tells you to live your life in certain ways, through a prescribed doctrine, it is actually nothing more than history. I hardly know what I did last year, and if someone told me something differently, I would probably replace it in my memory as such. In the same way, religion and texts are thing handed from the past, and whether someone is understanding it in 2013, or 1413, or 813, we've all had different interpretations of it. At each point in time, we kind of lump all these interpretations together, thinking that we are distinctly different. Obviously this is not the case is it? The person in 1413 was vastly different from the person in 813. Who is to say they were the same?
This post was about memories, about people, events, about how memories can be changed and forged. Never more so than when you lose someone, because then memory likes to gloss things and make it beautiful. I am completely cynical of this.
Sitting in the moment where I knew that my dad was going to die, I realized actually, I really didn't know what to say. At that point too, I also knew too that I probably would have a million things to say later, but he wouldn't be around to listen to it. I could not encapsulate those million things into that one moment that I had with him in that point in time. I could not. I did not know how. It hadn't come to me yet. It was something reserved for the future, how was I meant to extract things from the future? How would I get my future self to tell the present self 'this is what you were going to say'? It doesn't work that way.
All I knew in that moment was that I didn't have much time to say what I had to say. But maybe what I had to say was enough anyway. You can spend a million years trying to come up with something eloquent, but, when you're in the moment, what matters is what comes out of your mouth right then.
No regrets, none at all, I've lived my life and my relationships with no regrets. As much as I am a cynic I'd like to think that a higher power has good plans for me in this life, there's plenty more of it to be lived.
Everything you do is a consequence of something you've decided upon, and as much as religion tells you to live your life in certain ways, through a prescribed doctrine, it is actually nothing more than history. I hardly know what I did last year, and if someone told me something differently, I would probably replace it in my memory as such. In the same way, religion and texts are thing handed from the past, and whether someone is understanding it in 2013, or 1413, or 813, we've all had different interpretations of it. At each point in time, we kind of lump all these interpretations together, thinking that we are distinctly different. Obviously this is not the case is it? The person in 1413 was vastly different from the person in 813. Who is to say they were the same?
This post was about memories, about people, events, about how memories can be changed and forged. Never more so than when you lose someone, because then memory likes to gloss things and make it beautiful. I am completely cynical of this.
Sitting in the moment where I knew that my dad was going to die, I realized actually, I really didn't know what to say. At that point too, I also knew too that I probably would have a million things to say later, but he wouldn't be around to listen to it. I could not encapsulate those million things into that one moment that I had with him in that point in time. I could not. I did not know how. It hadn't come to me yet. It was something reserved for the future, how was I meant to extract things from the future? How would I get my future self to tell the present self 'this is what you were going to say'? It doesn't work that way.
All I knew in that moment was that I didn't have much time to say what I had to say. But maybe what I had to say was enough anyway. You can spend a million years trying to come up with something eloquent, but, when you're in the moment, what matters is what comes out of your mouth right then.
No regrets, none at all, I've lived my life and my relationships with no regrets. As much as I am a cynic I'd like to think that a higher power has good plans for me in this life, there's plenty more of it to be lived.
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