Enmeshed in forward motion
Posted on | September 15, 2007 | 15 Comments
In the Pacific ocean, 1996.
This afternoon I sat among boxes in my studio and dug through relics (an attempt at organizing, gone very far tangent.) I found pictures of high school boyfriends; letters; collages. All small fragments of who I was then, different, yet still me, in ridiculous cut-off shorts and too-large plaid shirts (thank you Nirvana.)
It felt so funny looking back—feeling the way time arcs like electricity, fast and slow between now and then. It seems so impossible to me sometimes, that we can only go forwards. That we can only live today and maybe tomorrow, but never yesterday again. Those romances, back then when I wore converse high tops and baggy jeans were so sweet and achingly awkward. They were all good guys, and I still know most of them. Some, I’m still close friends with, which says a lot about the both of us, I think. But even though we’re friends, and we talk and share pancakes when they come to visit my little family here up on our hill, we can still only go one-way: always towards the future. We’ll never be able to slip back into the skin of our past selves—there on the rocky coast, posing for the camera on self-timer in wind-rumpled blue parkas; or there on the cobbled streets of Florence, in hiking boots and backpacks.
Riffling through the box of artifacts I felt myself slip up above like a helium balloon on a string. Suddenly with a birds-eye-view: there I am, in the middle of my life. That is how it has all turned out. That man. That small boy. That house. And not those other men, despite their earnest efforts, and big hearts. It felt like time travel, seeing my name, printed out on numerous envelopes. My maiden name. Those consonants now grown unfamiliar on my tongue.
Has anyone else ever felt like this? Startled, for a brief moment, or surprised, to find yourself right where you are? Not that it could be any different, or that I would want it to. Simply that time moves on, and that on a rare instant I see how I am enmeshed in its shimmering net, the tide pulling steadily forwards, and regardless of my loves and my discrepancies, and I arrive each day, a little further on.
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15 Responses to “Enmeshed in forward motion”
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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September 15th, 2007 @ 10:33 pm
These moments come to me when I am rummaging through things as well, mostly when I am packing or unpacking from a move. But they also come to me in late afternoon naps, when I awake from a dream and am still groggy and all of a sudden I am thrown back to moments that I remember and I get suddenly sad for all that I cannot visit again, the silly things I’ve done and for all the friends and family that are not with me. I am a reminiscer, constantly drawing on the past and thinking of the future. The future is always not what I forsee it to be.
September 16th, 2007 @ 12:45 am
I had to comment on this one. Your line “an attempt at organizing, gone very far tangent” dragged me in. I do EXACTLY the same thing. Sigh. It’s SO HARD to organize some things just because of that hitch.
I liked your post, too, about the convergence of time, and how, every once in a while we are brought back to who we were, and can see our lives kind-of as if we were hovering over it. Good stuff. Reminds us of the power of our choices.
September 16th, 2007 @ 3:18 am
O! beautiful and tragic, all at once. It’s so true. I think this gets more and more poignant for every year forward that we come, the fact that our past stretches out behind us, something we can only glimpse through a (rather hazy at times) window.
September 16th, 2007 @ 10:38 am
YES. To all of it. Beautiful.
September 16th, 2007 @ 7:52 pm
Yeah. I’ve felt that way before. Usually when I do what you did and sift through the memorabilia of my life. What you said about your maiden name, the “consonants grown unfamiliar on my tongue,” I feel that, too. That name that so identified me to myself and others all those years, and now…it’s almost foreign. Truth be told, I sometimes miss my maiden name. I thought about hyphenating, but it felt like a gift to my husband to take his name.
Melissa
September 16th, 2007 @ 8:59 pm
LOVELY writing!
I feel exactly like this when I’m reminded of my history. I was unable to verbalize it quite like you have though!
September 16th, 2007 @ 9:02 pm
All. The. Time. Old journal entries really do me in.
September 16th, 2007 @ 9:14 pm
It’s funny- I am in the middle of selling my house, getting divorced. Have two kids and am 27 years old. Feel like my life is just about to begin to some extent. Free and happy- but yes, startled to find myself here, and to find that this is the path I am actively choosing.
I love this post. Makes so much sense, and is so well written.
September 17th, 2007 @ 9:37 am
i know exactly what you mean
even if i could not have put it
in better words…
September 17th, 2007 @ 10:24 am
I swear I had those EXACT same shorts– we are twins, you know.
September 17th, 2007 @ 12:31 pm
I just had a birthday. And every year, around this time, I think back to when I was a kid. I think about the goals I had when I was little and where I am in comparison. I’m way off.
Yet again, I am way off the mark, but so happy to be here! So happy with the choices I have made. And pleased that I followed this particular path, at this very time.
September 17th, 2007 @ 4:30 pm
Life is so unexpected
September 18th, 2007 @ 6:24 pm
Few weeks ago I was sitting on the doorstep of someone’s house in a little village in Italy: myself and 3 of my dearest friends(one ex-boyfriend included. We talked about this very same concept into the wee hours of the morning. A timeless evening of how we were, who we are, and why we are what we are. Priceless.
September 18th, 2007 @ 11:40 pm
Those incidents that seemed to have happened to some other girl are still clear in the memory though occasionally tinged with regret, a fear of wrong choices, blushing cheeks about awkwardness of being so naive. In our household last night we were talking about choices we have made, impulsive steps we have taken, accidental meetings with people that led into entirely new directions. Yet now, it’s all warp and weft and patterns emerged that only seem right now.
w.
September 20th, 2007 @ 9:59 am
It sounds really silly, but right now I am adjusting to a new metabolism, edging out of my teenager, early-twenties self, the self I have always known, who could eat anything she wanted and not think about it. I now am moving toward the metabolism of my thirties, becoming the woman who needs to be aware of portions and timing and all that, and it struck me that I will never again have my old body, my old digestive system, this body that I got so well acquainted with. It won’t ever come back. It’s kind of different, but your post made me think of this.