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nostalgia - still my favourite emotion
It's been a long time since I've been alone for this long. And it hasn't even been very long, exactly, but it is certainly quite alone.
My parents were 20 and 21 when I was born, and they split up not long afterwards. (That's a good thing - they were terribly incompatible.) I lived with my mom until I was 13, and then I moved in with my dad until I went away to university. It was when I moved in with my dad that I really learned what it meant to be alone. That's not because he didn't love me; it's just because he worked a lot. He was away overnight about three times a week, so I spent a lot of time by myself at home when I was in junior high and high school.
This week has made me nostalgic for those first few nights I spent by myself at my dad's house. I remember the very first night he went on an overnight trip after I moved in. I was so scared I slept on the living room couch with the TV and every light in the house turned on. Two weeks later, he had a deadbolt installed on his front door, even though I never told him how scared I was with only that bathroom door-style lock on the door. I remember the little parties I had with me, myself and I, making a supper of cheese and crackers while watching bad cable TV until 3 AM. My room was filled with books, my saxophones, my papers, my drawings, and my music. I would alternate between the living room couch where the TV was and that room, keeping myself constantly occupied with silly little things to do until it was time to go to bed, time to go to school, or time to clean up before my dad got home from work.
Fifteen years later, I'm reliving that same sort of schedule once again. My wife works overnight at least once a week, and I spend that time at home, alone. Sometimes I spend a lot of time on the computer, but lately, I've found that I spend a lot of time just sitting. I like to sit in my new study upstairs, with no computer, no books, just me. I don't read, I don't watch TV, I don't listen to the radio, I don't draw anything, I don't write anything. When I think of that teenager who spent those first rough few nights alone at home, I'm overcome with a sense of nostalgia.
We always carry these memories with us, of times long past, or lives long ago lived. Reincarnation doesn't just happen after you die - it happens every minute of every day. How many past lives do we all carry with us from this very lifetime? More than we'll ever be able to remember, I'm sure.
Ultimately, contemplating this usually brings me to a sense of being, of permanence, of peace. A sense that the universe is as it is, always, and forevermore. That there is nothing to be done, by anyone; not now, not ever, nor has there ever been. Nothing can be done - the universe does everything on its own, and we're just innocent bystanders, observing it unfolding before us. There's no present, no past, and no future. There's nothing here. These words have been uttered a hundred million times, and they'll be uttered a hundred million more by the time you take your next breath. These actions, these thoughts, these ideas... They've never really existed in any time or any place. No time or place has ever existed for them to exist in. Read these words now, read them tomorrow, read them for every remaining wakeful moment of your life - when the flame of this body dies out, it will not matter that the words were ever said.
All I can do is watch, and observe. Living in the present moment is like reliving past memories from the future. It's nostalgia in action, now. Definitely my favourite emotion.
My parents were 20 and 21 when I was born, and they split up not long afterwards. (That's a good thing - they were terribly incompatible.) I lived with my mom until I was 13, and then I moved in with my dad until I went away to university. It was when I moved in with my dad that I really learned what it meant to be alone. That's not because he didn't love me; it's just because he worked a lot. He was away overnight about three times a week, so I spent a lot of time by myself at home when I was in junior high and high school.
This week has made me nostalgic for those first few nights I spent by myself at my dad's house. I remember the very first night he went on an overnight trip after I moved in. I was so scared I slept on the living room couch with the TV and every light in the house turned on. Two weeks later, he had a deadbolt installed on his front door, even though I never told him how scared I was with only that bathroom door-style lock on the door. I remember the little parties I had with me, myself and I, making a supper of cheese and crackers while watching bad cable TV until 3 AM. My room was filled with books, my saxophones, my papers, my drawings, and my music. I would alternate between the living room couch where the TV was and that room, keeping myself constantly occupied with silly little things to do until it was time to go to bed, time to go to school, or time to clean up before my dad got home from work.
Fifteen years later, I'm reliving that same sort of schedule once again. My wife works overnight at least once a week, and I spend that time at home, alone. Sometimes I spend a lot of time on the computer, but lately, I've found that I spend a lot of time just sitting. I like to sit in my new study upstairs, with no computer, no books, just me. I don't read, I don't watch TV, I don't listen to the radio, I don't draw anything, I don't write anything. When I think of that teenager who spent those first rough few nights alone at home, I'm overcome with a sense of nostalgia.
We always carry these memories with us, of times long past, or lives long ago lived. Reincarnation doesn't just happen after you die - it happens every minute of every day. How many past lives do we all carry with us from this very lifetime? More than we'll ever be able to remember, I'm sure.
Ultimately, contemplating this usually brings me to a sense of being, of permanence, of peace. A sense that the universe is as it is, always, and forevermore. That there is nothing to be done, by anyone; not now, not ever, nor has there ever been. Nothing can be done - the universe does everything on its own, and we're just innocent bystanders, observing it unfolding before us. There's no present, no past, and no future. There's nothing here. These words have been uttered a hundred million times, and they'll be uttered a hundred million more by the time you take your next breath. These actions, these thoughts, these ideas... They've never really existed in any time or any place. No time or place has ever existed for them to exist in. Read these words now, read them tomorrow, read them for every remaining wakeful moment of your life - when the flame of this body dies out, it will not matter that the words were ever said.
All I can do is watch, and observe. Living in the present moment is like reliving past memories from the future. It's nostalgia in action, now. Definitely my favourite emotion.