We live on a treadmill of time, constantly running past our present and leaving strewn behind, as markers of our journey, memories.
Memories : painted in the canvas of our mind with broad brushstrokes of emotion : joyous, repulsive, anxious, hateful, loving. The details, lost to the sieves of age, or saved by them. Innocuous minutae – the color of a dress, the look in a loved one’s eye, the design of fabric on a couch, the ringing of laughter in a friend’s voice – saved for no reason sometimes, and other times because they meant so much. Other stories blanked out because they meant very little, or sometimes, because they hurt too much. Some memories, expanding in the aftermath, because of how often we choose to shower them with attention. Others fading, as we diminish their value. All of them, colored forever, by the lens we choose to view them with. Lenses, chosen unwittingly perhaps, sometimes deliberately, but chosen nonetheless. Lenses, that become hard to alter, once chosen.
Memories, are the building blocks to our evolving selfhood, shaping us constantly. Each event, leaving its mark, in how we think, what we value, who we value, who we discard. They are the cement in our relationships-bonding us forever with those that we share fond memories with- however fleeting. Laying invisible or maybe, discernible cracks in bonds that have left us with dour aftertaste. Memories are our bridges across time, allowing us to traverse decades in a fraction. To revisit bonds, to recreate events like they occurred yesterday. We are little else, but a collection, a treasure trove, an edifice created by our memories. And the memories of those we touch in our journey. We act today, as our memories have shaped us to. And our actions in turn will shape the memories.
This past week, I have been submerged in memories of a very joyful time from my adolescence. Old friends, lost to time, but now reunited because of our memories.
Memories : painted in the canvas of our mind with broad brushstrokes of emotion : joyous, repulsive, anxious, hateful, loving. The details, lost to the sieves of age, or saved by them. Innocuous minutae – the color of a dress, the look in a loved one’s eye, the design of fabric on a couch, the ringing of laughter in a friend’s voice – saved for no reason sometimes, and other times because they meant so much. Other stories blanked out because they meant very little, or sometimes, because they hurt too much. Some memories, expanding in the aftermath, because of how often we choose to shower them with attention. Others fading, as we diminish their value. All of them, colored forever, by the lens we choose to view them with. Lenses, chosen unwittingly perhaps, sometimes deliberately, but chosen nonetheless. Lenses, that become hard to alter, once chosen.
Memories, are the building blocks to our evolving selfhood, shaping us constantly. Each event, leaving its mark, in how we think, what we value, who we value, who we discard. They are the cement in our relationships-bonding us forever with those that we share fond memories with- however fleeting. Laying invisible or maybe, discernible cracks in bonds that have left us with dour aftertaste. Memories are our bridges across time, allowing us to traverse decades in a fraction. To revisit bonds, to recreate events like they occurred yesterday. We are little else, but a collection, a treasure trove, an edifice created by our memories. And the memories of those we touch in our journey. We act today, as our memories have shaped us to. And our actions in turn will shape the memories.
This past week, I have been submerged in memories of a very joyful time from my adolescence. Old friends, lost to time, but now reunited because of our memories.
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