Lost

I hate it when I have a really good idea that I want to write about, or talk about, or draw a picture of, but then, for some reason or another, I forget it.  All that lingers is the thought that I had had a good thought and that is not at all satisfying.  It is like loosing a word, you know what it means, you can even imagine the first letter or the way it should sound, and yet you can’t put your finger down on it.  The the word, the name, the image, the thought is slippery, vague, not really a thing at all, more of a lingering, a feeling of regret but you are not even sure what it is you are regretting.  The fact that memory can fail us is, in some ways, a slap in the face to what we hold sacred about our consciousness of being.  If we can forget a word, or a name, or a thought what else can we forget?  What else have we lost?

But . . . then again . . .

What do we sometimes find?  What random ideas pop into our heads out of the blue and leave us with the feeling of deja vu.  “I’ve thought this before,” we say to ourselves, and it was beautiful then and is so now.  Our minds seem to work like oceans in which the waters are always moving, so that at different times different things are made present whiles others are strangely absent so that we are constantly feeling the ache of the forgotten and the joy of the remembered.

~ by Nathaniel on October 24, 2007.

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