Capturing a feeling; a mood — in writing — can be a frustrating and frequently futile experience.
Some of my favorite personal essays I've written over the years have been a particular kind of ”reflective” piece that tried to capture a mood; the feeling of an experience.
Most of the time, I end up typing away for a really long time at the end of which I read back my words and can't help but feel that there's something essential missing. In short, I missed my mark.
Of course, most of our lives are relatively non-eventful, and not worthy of being captured with flowing prose.
But every now and then something profoundly moving and life-changing does happen, and I find myself taken over by this idea that I can paint a picture with words in a situation where actually taking a photograph would be hopelessly inadequate to record a moment.
There are moments in my life I remember quite clearly, and they're brought back to life — at least inside my mind — by the fact that I can go back and read my paper journals describing that event.
Earlier today, as part of my "spring cleaning of my ideas," I came across a journal entry — or piece of prose, if you will — that described the process and experience of leaving the place where I had lived during my teenage years… except it was 30 years later, and under sad circumstances — namely that my parents had now died and I was unlikely to ever come back to that place.
At the time, I was trying to remember the essence of the location during the years when I was growing up, but failed rather miserably because time, and real estate development, and the evolution of the species, and so much more had made it all but unrecognizable.
Although I really enjoyed rereading what I had written at the time, the power of hindsight also gave me the ability to now recognize the fact that it wasn't so much the place that had changed, but myself who had changed. The person standing there, trying to remember experiences from 30 years past, was not the same person who actually had those experiences 30 years previously… and so, the experience fell somewhat short of the memory.
In the end, I did find a measure of closure in writing those passages in my journal — this was 12 years ago now — even though there was something missing from the picture, both then and now.
Of course, some of this is simply a long-winded confession that I often find it easy and alluring to seek refuge in the past when my current life seems particularly challenging. Some people escape by drinking, or taking drugs, or immersing themselves in endless gaming… my particular way of zoning out revolves around escaping into the past... of my mind.
From a purely objective standpoint it seems like a bit of a silly exercise because I don't really have any ”good old days” to look back on — most of it was pretty rotten — so I seek out these occasional small patches of intense emotions from loss; from unexpected change; from new beginnings; from cross country moves and more.
I don't know if it actually gives me a dopamine fix, but it's something I do, regardless! It feels like an emotional oasis where the roar of reality is somehow softened, a bit.
After a while, I return to the present... and taxes, financial struggles and all the things that "reality" is.
Thanks for reading, and have a great Friday!
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Created at 2023-03-24 00:22 PST
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