Temporary Infinities
But you know I think I recognize your face, but I've never seen you before
-Roll With It, Oasis
There’s something unique about temporaneous-ness—the ineffable, je ne sais quoi of sentience, cognizance, how our consciousness determines truth from distortion, delineates light from dark, fiction from objectivity, etc. Sometimes, it feels that there’s some sort of empirical “time dilation” when it comes to believing, and reliving our moments…as if, the past that we remember is not only a composite sketched by neurological matter, but also (at times, it seems/feels) a sort of “gateway,” if you will, to a place or time that very much feels alive. One moment, we are simply living the authenticity, truth about ourselves to the best of our abilities, whether that is conscientious or not, but with the truth being self-evident (according to Descartes), we are what we are, when we are, how we are, and that seems the nature of things…however, everyone once in awhile, I feel a “nudge” from yesterday in some way, shape or form, and thus…what felt like what was going to be forever is now, all of a sudden, a fleeting memory, fever dream of past.
When I attempt to write, I very much tune into how memory shapes the way we look at ourselves and circumstances. In a way, I don’t believe the past informs us of our present so much as our present (and, predictions of the future) inform us of our past (and to that extent, how to interpret/contextualize the past). I suppose there could be a series of conversations to be had as to what constitutes “past” in simplistic terms, for “time gone by” as a mere definition doesn’t feel adequate to epitomize this nebulous phenomenon of having experienced something, but then at a later time, re-experiencing it (i.e. something) in a very real sense. Does past mean the permanent loss of actively shaping some occurrence—because of time, or is it an aboveboard demarcation shaped by our cognizance, where a data-recall-point is placed by our memories to serve as some point of reference for the future, making the “past,” past by referencing our present…or is it both, and then some? What I mean is, at what point do we determine we are in the past versus present?
I’ve listened participated in conversations topics similar to this, specifically about the physicality of time, the phenomenon of how time “seems” to move “slower” when we’re younger, and as we progress in life, our experience of time becomes the opposite, so we can’t seem to find that same gravity as we did as children, when the days seemed to “stretch,” on and on. In that regard, the subject of “time dilation” is said to be a neurological process, for the formation of new types of experiences and memories often make us feel as if time is moving “slower,” and with the repetition and monotony of adult living, the brain sorts through daily occurrences with ease, and thus, time “feels” to be moving faster. Even considering this, however, I do ponder and meditate about the nature of our relationship as a species with time. For example, time seems to move slower when we are younger (from what I’ve gathered by way of anecdotes), and within that slow march, I can still recall wondering how and when things were going to change for me as a child; things felt as a kid that they were always going to look a certain way, rhythmically unfold in similar manners, that it was to be forever before I found my freedom…and then one day, I had suddenly “come to” in a new “era” of my life, and that “cycle,” if you will, has been seemingly repeated, ad infinitum.
Time is interpersonal, personal, subjective and objective…somehow.
In a poetic sense, I think of time as a series of “belongings,” not possessions but periods in which we belong somewhere, belong to a certain group of people or situations, become so situated within a certain sphere, there accost us expectations of our presences in such realities…and those realities feel like they can last forever, but simultaneously (and paradoxically), are about as fleeting as the condensation that evaporates after you shower. In one poem I wrote, I described the phenomena akin to sandcastles, for which, we build little empires of sand—congruent to our realities and/or fantasies, only for them to be taken back by the sea (and in that way, much like time). It feels often, when I recollect about such periods of “belonging,” (whether or not that is voluntary), that those times felt so indefinably forever, that it was unfathomable for my mind to comprehend my life looking a different way than it had - for whatever period I happen to recall - and then, by a procession of happenstances, a gradual yet severe evolution occurs, and then…everything is different. Someone moves away, another passes on, this person and that person break up, others married, a job or two down the line, purchase this car, move into this apartment, go through this event in history…and, the only thing that feels remotely similar to the person I was before, is this “sense of consciousness” that lingers between my ears.
A temporary infiniteness. A temporary setting of-arranging of things, furniture, waist sizes, hair colors and cuts, this group of friends or a new batch, someone who was once good for you gradually becomes not, some truth unknown your psyche becomes revealed by attrition and time…the list goes on. I suppose there is some psycho-evolutionary modus operandi involved with associating the tenets of our present into abstract and/or conceptual pillars of uniformity, stability or predictability, however my focus with this entry isn’t the origin of such phenomena, or even why per se…just…how interesting, fascinating it is/feels, to have experienced so much in my short tenure on this floating rock, and observe just how my psyche indexes/archives the very many “eras” of my life. Perhaps this could be some form of nostalgia, but I doubt it, because for me, nostalgia implies/presupposes some longing for the past, while this entry is mainly addressed to the phenomenological “awe” of how infinite certain period of my life felt, only for them ultimately be as temporary as a petal in the wind.
This leads me to the question of “belonging,” both as a means of examining my relationship to people, places and things, but also, the way I contextualize the transience of it all in-relation to my values. Sometimes, what I feel that makes me belong is simply the proximity in which I exist alongside others (there’s another conversation here about the “separateness” to our conception to reality, however, I’ll put that aside), and that indefinable, ineffable, explicit “permission” to just exist by merely being in-contrast to others is what provides me (at-times, it feels/seems) some sense of belonging. There’s belonging in regard to what I decide are my values, for the people I associate with presumptively share similar values, so that belonging also exists within the paradigm, but there’s also the psycho-emotional connections of sentiment and love that comprise of a belonging interpersonal. I don’t mean to get too hung up about the “types” of belonging, but it does strike me as peculiar that there are many different ways we can “belong,” and even in some ways, we can “belong” when we don’t, such as an archivist who feels compelled to recontextualize a moment/person passed into the present somehow, i.e. the belonging of conviction, ethos, way of life, etc.
The belongings of memory.
The question of belonging involves memory…for, does something existing within our memory necessitate its belonging to us as individuals, or is a “shared” memory, somehow, invoke belonging? For example, the NYC I remember is not the same one that exists now…even weeks later, months later, akin the proverb, “you can never step in the same river twice.” Which memories belong to whom; is memory predicated to belonging, or does a sense of belonging distort our memories of empirical-objectivity existent outside ourselves? Do I belong (or not) because I exist, or because I can remember it? Some people “belong” in obligatory ways, for instance, a job you hate, but yet, you don’t “belong” to it anymore you belong to a bad case of stomach cramps. I know, this is getting a little woo-woo at this point, but the point is…belonging, like anything else, is second to the nature of entropy, of change, of time and how energy is distributed every waking second. Belonging as a concept, a want, or some veritable obligation in which people are indebted to circumstances and institutions, etc…but, for whatever happenings occur, we will “belong” to the situations that influence our lives, and whether this “belonging” is true to ourselves or not, at some point, it does change, and that change is both, quick and slow, gradual yet sudden, profound though mundane…temporary, but in a way, in our moments, feel like forever.
