Tag: memories
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Existence is not much good without Essence
What do you do on your last day anywhere? What can you do if you’re not sure you’ll ever be back? At my age I’m faced with that dilemma more and more. Not to seem too Sartrean or anything, but it is what it is. He says that ‘existence precedes essence’: you cannot make something…
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Remember me, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat
I don’t think I believe in ghosts, at least I never have … But I am older now, and I’m not so sure. I have lived thus far on solid things; except for the wisp of my imagination, or the words I write to pin it down, there is no room for ghosts. Perhaps it…
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‘Oh, how this spring of love resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day which now shows all beauty of the Sun, and by and by a cloud takes all away’
Can we really speak from places where we are not; from times we have visited and then been forced to leave; pretend we still understand how it felt to be young? What truth can memories tell us of our lives…? Do we only remember the sharp edges of things: the significant comings and goings of…
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The Mutable Rank-scented Many
Too much time by myself can be troublesome: I begin to wonder about things that I should have resolved years ago had I bothered to think more about them. Or, perhaps I did, and decided to shelve them while I got on with my life. Retired hands, though, are often bored; they open things the…
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Searching for Muesli
Muesli. There was a time when I didn’t know what it was; maybe nobody did. But then they did, and I was caught unawares. Those were innocent times, to be sure, and yet I suppose I was raised that way: be aware of what’s around you, but don’t poke at it; never disturb anything that…
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Life in the endgame
I guess I’m up for it; I mean things have been working out for me for too long on this trip, and change is always therapeutic, eh? You can’t live forever in a candy store without getting some cavities along the way, I suppose. I was looking forward to this part of the trip at…
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Tis in my memory locked
For some time now, I’ve wondered what makes some places feel like they are a part of me -or more likely, that I am a part of them… And why are some things only superficially appealing, in spite of their evident attempts to mimic authenticity? I suppose we all have different needs, so perhaps generic…
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Wind Phones
There are times when I wonder how much of it I need: Time, I mean. It’s not that I wish to shorten it unduly, just that there are times when it gathers as a storm approaching on the horizon like I used to see as a child living on the prairies. Now, of course, I…
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Seek not for whom the bell tolls
Do you ever put something away for safe-keeping, only to find it has changed in the interval since you last looked? Retirement can be like that: hanging a once comfortable identity in a closet somewhere, and discovering it no longer fits when you try it on for old times’ sake. Not only that, but the…
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