I reminded myself a number of years ago to always pay attention to the essence of the day; as much as the blinders of our routine can make the sequence seem uniform, it is an illusion... What we experience is neither a repetition nor rewindable. It is hard when we move quickly through life, and the days seem to lose sequence altogether; easier when we retain enough touchstones that we can see our relationships to all things twist and reshape. Home, I feel now, is all the places where the twisting has changed us. Natural, maybe, that so much of it will happen in a house; in houses; aging is an anesthesia but it is also the slowest, most inevitably certain agent of change. Sit in an empty room, and you will not remain the same; every day for a hundred years you will change - expand or contract, opening yourself to the inexorable peace of universal wisdom. At the end (the end of wisdom, not existence...), having a 'personality' is merely the story of how you attained such wisdom and when...
In perception, the trust in the constancy of memory is much like the trust in the constancy of time before Einstein's General Theory of Relativity proved light to be the universe's true constant; and memory's true constant, ironically enough, is time... While we believe that any moment, person, or idea can remain in us any length of time unchanged, all we can truly rely on is that they cannot; or rather, that the entropy of all things in time will make this impossible.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Thoughts Upon Returning Home
I have arrived home from Europe and begun the process of re-establishing a life here. It is strange to look back on a process that I attempted to gain such a grip in planning; I felt the roads through Germany and the sound of church bells in the old city squares, and the heat of the Southern Portugal sun on my skin long before I left Finland, and now those desires are informed with the [wildly differing] reality of my travels. How long does it take for the two to become one? I have infinite patience to discover the answer.
I finished reading "The Winter Vault", which I had really looked forward to. It can't even approach the uniqueness of Michaels' earlier novel, "Fugitive Pieces" (how many books can?), but it is still very strong. I am a little annoyed with some of Michaels' repeated literary and grammatical effects, but the story and themes are all well-drawn. I was left thinking about authenticity of place, and authenticity of purpose even more... And I can't help but think this is important for me right now...
On a separate note, it was amazing to read a novel where the most poignant imagery took place in a location I recently visited - Warsaw. The history of the city during World War II is both horrific as well as unique in a terrifying sense. Certainly the fact that the city was rebuilt to look identical to its pre-war state is fascinating from the standpoint of authenticity. Michaels asks, is such an act meant to heal the living, or the dead?
In Warsaw, there is a memorial garden to the uprising that contains lots of large, high-resolution pictures of the city taken from planes during the destruction of the city. The stories these pictures tell are fascinating, and the later pictures, where the city stands almost completely destroyed (not a roof remaining on any building) are stunning. I can't even begin to imagine the way these people were affected.
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Before I left for my exchange trip, I attended a pre-exchange meeting at school where we were warned that a sense of depression is quite rare on departure, and quite common on return. It has taken no more than one week of living at home to play out this thesis. Despite efforts towards regaining employment and arranging school plans, I feel listless. None of my pre-exchange occupations of time feel worthwhile or enjoyable. I am more idealistic in my goals and no better equipped to attain them. If anything, I have moved backwards.
Where does such a series of events end? I believe I must explore new avenues and meet new people, two things that have always been difficult for me.
I finished reading "The Winter Vault", which I had really looked forward to. It can't even approach the uniqueness of Michaels' earlier novel, "Fugitive Pieces" (how many books can?), but it is still very strong. I am a little annoyed with some of Michaels' repeated literary and grammatical effects, but the story and themes are all well-drawn. I was left thinking about authenticity of place, and authenticity of purpose even more... And I can't help but think this is important for me right now...
On a separate note, it was amazing to read a novel where the most poignant imagery took place in a location I recently visited - Warsaw. The history of the city during World War II is both horrific as well as unique in a terrifying sense. Certainly the fact that the city was rebuilt to look identical to its pre-war state is fascinating from the standpoint of authenticity. Michaels asks, is such an act meant to heal the living, or the dead?
In Warsaw, there is a memorial garden to the uprising that contains lots of large, high-resolution pictures of the city taken from planes during the destruction of the city. The stories these pictures tell are fascinating, and the later pictures, where the city stands almost completely destroyed (not a roof remaining on any building) are stunning. I can't even begin to imagine the way these people were affected.
-------------------------------------------------------
Before I left for my exchange trip, I attended a pre-exchange meeting at school where we were warned that a sense of depression is quite rare on departure, and quite common on return. It has taken no more than one week of living at home to play out this thesis. Despite efforts towards regaining employment and arranging school plans, I feel listless. None of my pre-exchange occupations of time feel worthwhile or enjoyable. I am more idealistic in my goals and no better equipped to attain them. If anything, I have moved backwards.
Where does such a series of events end? I believe I must explore new avenues and meet new people, two things that have always been difficult for me.
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