Passage

Feeling strangely emotional and outside of time. I watched a home video of myself and some friends in year 12 from 2002. Instantly familiar faces, but now they just look like kids, these teenagers who were once my peers. It’s triggering a stream of other memories and feelings. The hope and excitement I used to have. Life was an adventure, I was going to learn so much, meet so many people, make such an imprint and fill my life with love and awesome things. There were so many interesting things I missed at the time. The way a person spoke, held themself, the way they would pause or think. The universe is so infinitely complicated. Thousands of millions of people living lives, having all sorts of conversations. Hundreds of days every year, mornings, afternoons, celebrations and gatherings. Okay, so maybe a lot of it is extremely boring. But the details, the body language, all those subtle little things are extraordinary.

I feel like a ghost now. I barely remember my high school, I’m hardly the same person. I would only recognise a fraction of my classmates and practically no-one from other years. Funny how years can just pass like that. Anything you haven’t looked at, anything you don’t regularly come back to, will fly right by you. Imagine all the people and things in your life that you’ve already seen for the last time. There are moments when you’ll discover something by accident and then realise how easily you could have missed it literally for the rest of your life. These hidden relics of the past can be so powerful when found again. Even beautiful things you’ve never seen before are lying around, waiting to be instantly loved and appreciated in a familiar kind of way and yet you may never find them.

Our world is so full of advertisements, external forces trying to grab our attention or influence us, that it becomes difficult to find the things we really want. Search for anything and you’ll find a million things that aren’t what you want but which desperately want your time and consideration. Ironically, if you tried to separate yourself from these cultural forces to be able to clearly reflect, you’d be sacrificing active living, no longer creating new memories but just trying to understand and keep precious everything from before a certain point in time.

It’s scary. This will be lost, this moment. Eventually it will be completely forgotten. Unless I can somehow make something. Start something. Leave a permanent mark (hopefully a good one). Even marks can be forgotten. They become words – so and so happened which caused this. We leave it like this, so please don’t touch it. We forget we can change a mark, fix or improve it, reinterpret it in a new light. We can leave new marks. We can make an even bigger impact. But we freeze ourselves in time, trap ourselves. It’s funny. When you’re ready, the universe is ready. And it will all flow, a metamorphosis will take place. Maybe it was already happening and this transition is simply the big reveal. You let it go, tear it down or modify it and all of a sudden you’re free. There’s some new space available in your soul.

Piles of partially read books. Mentally noted partially watched movies, TV shows and documentaries. Reviews and trailers. Snippets from forums. People I’ve seen or met and dreamt about. Fantasies I had about my future. A collection of ideas of things, but not actually things themselves. There are so many. Even finished things feel unfinished. What was the aim again? Why did I start this in the first place?

I used to catch so many buses and trains. It was a kind of ritual. Entering a new space. Assessing the people. Glancing at the cute girl every so often. She’s really pretty and I’ll probably never see her again. Trying to see what that person is reading. Why are they highlighting so much? Looking out the window. Endlessly drawn to the passing buildings, roads, clouds, trees, people, everything. A whole world out there and I’m somehow a part of it. I can think and make noises and move around and touch things. This whole place is real, all of it. My mind wanders. It discusses things back and forth. Consciousness ebbs and flows. Different things are in the background of my mind at different times, it knows what it’s doing. I am silent, deep in thought. Struck by an inner peace. This music was made just for me here, for this time right now. It’s so soothing, so invigorating and affecting. I get off the train, constantly observing people, laughing at little details. Now I’m walking. Familiar streets and paths. How is the weather? Isn’t the sky beautiful? I don’t get this music but I’m excited that I must be learning in some way from it. My existence is becoming richer, my world is expanding. This is a journey, an adventure. A barrage of passing images and sounds, faces and expressions and I can look at whatever interests me the most. I finally arrive and enter either home or school or some university lecture hall. The morning’s or afternoon’s meditation is over.

How much of my life has been spent fully awake? Truly absorbed in my surroundings, using all of my senses? Perhaps that is the best feeling. Being fully alert and having the freedom to do anything, think anything. My soul is intact and I own it. I define myself and communicate to the world through my being. I don’t fear death. My sensitivity is heightened. I will remember this experience and gain insight into the world or even myself from it. Then I wake up years later, not realising I’d fallen asleep. Where do I begin?

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About karnok

A legendary ninja.
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