I’m not the first to veer off the beaten path – I’m not the first to extol the benefits of doing so – but I want to remind you of them, so that you may share in them rather than bury them in the pits of memory. If you’re like me, you may take the bus every day, or perhaps the train, and understandably so; One look at the falling winter sun and you’re home! And when you’re home, more paper, more work, a bit of colour, and a little TV. Ask yourself this: what was I doing at this time a month ago? If you can’t remember that, then you won’t remember today either; Truly absorbing experiences, to form long-lasting memories, is not a simple, quick task – no, not even simple things like taking the same bus as yesterday can be excused. Memories must be carefully and meticulously crafted, not thrown flippantly to the wind.
Just recently, I decided to take a longer way home, and, even if I tried, my mind would not let me forgot the things I saw; I didn’t witness anything inherently out-of-the-ordinary, but, in the context of a dark, cold November afternoon, every little detail stood out to me, and just thinking back to it, ironically, brings me a warmth that the bus could only on paper.
“Less is more”, I’ve heard; Imagine a mother, asking her children about their day, under a tree with falling leaves of gold. Now imagine her on the packed, bloated bus, with the common empty gaze out of the window. Indeed, seeing my neighbour picking her children up from school, compared to the shy, closed faces on the bus, set in concrete, for me, the truly isolating nature of crowds, full of people, who have walled themselves off from the world
Imagine, two people, at a distance, unable to speak through anything but a wave and a look; Indeed, the cars that made way for me on the zebra crossing, compelling a wave of gratitude from me, reminded me of the humanity that is often forgotten in our lives, perhaps because we think that the stress we face justifies ignorance.
Imagine a fleeting moment of change, followed by regression; The man walking out of the barbershop, looking wistfully as if his eyes adhered to the wind, searching for his new personality to match his new haircut, reminded me that it isn’t change that brings comfort, and neither is it comfort that brings us comfort; What’s more, as he took out his phone to answer a call, his eyes dimmed, and his voice, afraid of freedom, talked with the same apprehension he would have talked in yesterday – because his hair would grow back again in some time, and people wouldn’t recognise his new self. However, as I walked past, I saw, I heard, I shivered, and now I remember.
Now I remember the cold, I remember my neighbour, the man outside the barber shop, the car and the leaves on the ground; I don’t remember whatever I saw on my phone yesterday that made me laugh for a moment. So, if you find yourself forgetting too, don’t seek comfort, don’t seek discomfort either, but instead seek to delay whatever may seem significant to you now, as far as possible, leaving the space between happiness, sadness, excitement and boredom, stress and tranquillity, as large as possible, and you’ll open up the world of the memories in-between.
