Cyclicities

We all believe, or rather choose to believe, that time moves in a linear forward manner and the gyros of time and space rotate in a gesture of advancement. But things, events and moments constantly remind us that time remains and is, essentially, an individualised notion - time moves in a gyrational manner: it spins on the axis of our experiences and memories.

Why such melancholic philosophising? Two days back, while I was actually searching through my photo albums to scan and place online (as you can see I have been having some fun placing images on my blog), I stumbled upon two photos of that person hidden in the last pages of a particular album. I thought I had thrown everything away. Apparently I didn't.

For that moment time stood still as I stole a moment for a gasp and come to realisation of my increased heartbeat. For that moment, the past came rushing to the present and the moment stood disjunct from the reality of the everyday, of space and time that belonged to what we term existence. It was most unreal, rather surreal.

But what more is there to say?

It still hurts ... to remember. But no longer as much as it once did. Still, the photos brought to consciousness and memory the person's image, and the times ... that no longer are. Having little to challenge me or keep me thoroughly occupied this week has made grappling with the memories a lot harder - especially of what I saw this fateful New Year's day.

But what more is there to say? Pain is an intimate emotion that can never be fully shared or understood. It remains locked within the bearer and only the one who suffers holds the key to liberation ... or further torment.

As T.S. Eliot so aptly captured in "The Wasteland", we are locked within the confines of our memory and desire.

Remember when it rained ...