Holding on to Something Concrete as Time Slips Away. A Musing.
Does it ever strike you that it takes you a couple of years into a decade of your life before you realize you're in it?
The transition is subtle and changes happen imperceptibly, especially while we're busy making other plans. What jolts us awake?
Looking back and realizing 5, 7, 10 years have just somehow disappeared. We saw Lord of the Rings on the big screen 13 years ago. We played Diablo II years before Facebook existed. Sure. But I'll make another bold suggestion: it's people.
More precisely, our friends and loved ones.
Those we use as reference for ourselves.
Others: Our Points of Reference.
I believe we humans always perceive ourselves in the context of our social constructs, whether we realize (and like) it or not.
Turning 30, I felt "safe" knowing many of my friends were still in their 20s. I could still "feel" like a twentysomething, hang on to the life Jamie Cullum summed up so expertly for just a little bit longer.
Only now that you wonderful, inextinguishable people turn 30 (or beyond) yourselves do I realize: the clock never stops. Crap.
I realize: the clock never stops. Crap.
Sure, I could meet new ones who are in their 20s. I do. I love them dearly. But it's foolish to try and hang on to them like a fountain of youth, try to project their place in life onto me – "I can still live that life". It's foolish to think I could. Alas, if only the foolish things weren't so tempting.
Today Fading into the Mists of Time.
Just like my old school still felt real, touchable in 2001 (2 years after graduating), by 2004, it was fading into the mists of time. Now, it has become a distant dream.
If I were to wander its halls today, the familiarity from the turn of the millennium would have transformed into a strange vision from another world. The teacher who once counted himself among the youngest ("And I'm 45!" – in the mid-90s) is now one of the few that remain from the days. To think I once saw them as magic fixtures in time.
The elation and heartache, the dreams, missed opportunities, chances taken and struggles prevailed through… They’re now somebody’s else’s.
For sure: my university is still around. Just like my old school, it's as bustling and alive as ever (thanks a million for peaceful times). But every time I return, it becomes more of a memory. The growth and love I went through there. The elation and heartache. The dreams, missed opportunities, chances taken and struggles prevailed through.
They're now somebody else's.
So many things I know now I wish I'd known then (sorry to disagree, Bob Seger).
What Grounds You?
It's just all very weird, unsettling and wonderful. What grounds me? A few things.
Music. Constant, indispensable companion. Love of my life.
Feeling like being me. Perhaps that's the most devilish deceiver. The fact that we grow while just staying ourselves at the core. Wait, how can I suddenly be this old? I never changed!
Wait, how can I suddenly be this old? I never changed!
Well… Funny story.
And then, there's you.
When I think of you, I think of a line by Pink Floyd. "The rain fell slow down on all the roofs of uncertainty. I thought of you, and the years and all the sadness fell away from me."
My friends, and if you're reading this, you are: I talk a lot about myself in this text, but really, this is about you. It's you who give my life context. It's you who make sense of it. Who make it conceivable. Who take away its scares.
I look into your eyes and it makes sense. I realize it all. No… We're not going back to where we once met. The days when we were fixtures in time, spirits with no past and an unwritten future: the night we all spent on hay bales under cloudless skies sprinkled with shooting stars. The moment in the car after I drove you home like I always did, but this time you hugged me and wouldn't let go.
We’re not going back to where we once met.
I watched the new Sin City movie. It was trying to make us all feel like it was still 2005. It didn't work out. But it was a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. Sure, I've accepted that Forrest Gump belongs to the past. But this one is a bit tougher, for now. It means letting go of yet another thing I felt I could hang on to.
Permanence through Transience.
Then I look into your eyes and see one thing I actually can hang on to.
You.
There. Right there. That makes sense to me. That makes it all work. That's worth investing in.
If people have the power to make sense of my life, moving ahead and forward doesn't feel so crazy anymore. Damn this is good.
Stay who you are. I love you. I can't wait to meet even more of you.
P.S.: and we can still play DOOM today.