Jonathan Safran once remarked “Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on…It is strange how we hold on to pieces of the past while we wait for our futures…”
The human mind has this wonderful ability to think about its own thinking. In Psychology, they call it “metacognition” — becoming “aware of one’s awareness” or higher-order thinking skills.
Nowadays, I often find myself looking in the mirror trying to see those fine lines around my eyes. Time flies for sure and at this stage of my life, I find myself thinking more about my own thoughts, my “old” thoughts.
I would say it is quite interesting to try to understand one’s own pattern of thoughts and musings.
Catching myself gravitated towards old things and places, I reminisce some fine lines from Charles Lamb’s essay on “Antiquity” :
Lamb knew what it felt like to be nostalgic! Nobody can put it more exquisitely in words than him.
You find a lot of people telling you not to live in the past, but Oh! the pleasure of taking that walk down the memory lane — nothing like it!
I would rather embrace my past, the old days, the old things and places that are now memories to be relished, I would never try to cut them out from my experience of this world. They made ME. They are pure gold!
I would rather be myself, my “evolved self” than pretend to be something I’m not. I won’t part with my old self, and still keep my new self. I think most of you would agree with me. You are what you are because of what you’ve seen and gone through.
Visiting museums, witnessing old architecture, and strolling through antique shops has somehow become an addiction to me. These places are the “nothing” and “everything” that my soul craves, I desire to take them in like a breath of old air, like a scent, that soothes me somewhere inside. Everything seems to be time-kissed after all these years!
A part of me surprisingly feels young again when I visit the school I once went to in my childhood, and the bazaars I used to shop in. A part of me also mourns, when I recall the people who are not there anymore.
As the winter nears its prime, I sit in my cozy lounge chair and read poetry .. I contemplate how life has been. As I sip warm tea from the mug, I peek from the window at the grey sky with a hazy sun, and once again get reminded how all things old and beautiful, are also shrouded by a mysterious haze which renders them a charm incomparable.
Time has callously ensnared a lot of beautiful things and places around me, or should I say, transformed them into something more lovely, more admirable by its sacred touch!
Maybe I should just greet the passing of time like an old friend…
Antiquity! thou wondrous charm, what art thou? that being nothing art everything?