Past is Present

You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.

Jane Austen , Pride and Prejudice

While cleaning out some files, I ran across a few old photos I hadn’t looked at in years. It sent me into a time portal. Once again seeing people and places I hadn’t thought about in ages. The passage of time can be contradictory. Some things seem to change very little, while others morph into images barely recognizable.

I was struck by the contrast between past and present while in Hong Kong. Looking out a window above the city, the view appeared to be two distinct eras. As if skyscrapers appeared overnight while the city was sleeping. I sometimes feel that way about my life. As though, suddenly, I woke up to an entirely different existence. Bringing up the ancient question. Where does time go? Or possibly a better question might be how can it slip by so quickly?

Jane Austen advises us to only remember the past in terms of what gives us pleasure. I understand the premise. I’m just not sure it’s realistic or even possible. It’s all part of who we have become. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, as the movie title suggests, are all a part of us. We can’t focus on the good parts without remembering the bad and the ugly. Some of those lessons could be useful in later life. Don’t beat yourself up with, should have, would have, could have. Just file it away in case you need it.

Looking at the old photos brought back many memories both happy and sad. Life moves on, not a thing stays static. This morning as I opened the blinds, I stood staring out the window transfixed by nothing in particular. As I stood there, our young neighbor came out and looked off into the distance to where I was staring. I suppose he wondered what in the world I was watching. If he had asked I couldn’t have told him. Sometimes I would find my grandmother doing exactly the same thing. When I asked what she was looking at, she would tell me she was thinking of days gone by. If, quizzed I would have to admit the same lapse. I was remembering days gone by.