Sunday, 14 September 2008

The Feelings/Memories

I believe myself to be the type of person that hangs onto sensory perception above all else.

I wandered into the washroom last night around one-something a.m., the lights all turned off, only the soft glow from the rain-laden clouds shining. As I stood there, a strong breeze blew into the washroom through the open window, and I could the swishing of the trees outside the window.

The sound of the trees rustling and moving in the wind jolted me back to camping, laying in the tent on my bed, the wind blowing through the mesh roof and cooling me, the sound of the trees so strong they reminded me of the cars driving in the city.

It was odd how in that *snap* of a second, I was transported the little washroom in the attic to the spaces outdoors, the feeling carrying me over time and distance.

This actually occurs often to me. I'll be somewhere, hearing something, be reminded of a memory or a moment in the past, and quickly I will suddenly feel everything that I felt at that moment.

What people learn to do is compartmentalize. They learn how to put everything in certain areas of their brains, boxing away things they would rather not remember, or memories that seem worthless to them. It's harder to jolt them into the past, harder to remind them of experiences they have been. Sometimes it is because those experiences were not positive ones, and had an adverse affect on them. Sometimes it is because they as an individual and personality choose to dwell on the future, rather than the past. But for whatever the reason, they are missing out many wonderful moments in life.

The memory of being a child, locked in a bathroom in a strange house, is scary yet vivid, and feel so real. Though it occurred years and years ago, I can remember that moment clearly to this day.

Other strange memories will sometimes pop out...hopping the white-washed wide stairs that led up and down the strange streets of Amman. The taste of white bread with Kraft smooth peanut butter, and the bright green lid of the peanut butter jar. Laying underneath the pew at church and staring at the designs above. The smell of Second Cup reminds me of my first day of work there. Little remembrances flare up, triggered by external occurrences.

What a joy it is to have memory, to know who one is, and to be able to look forward with contentment and hope to making more memories in the future.

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