Moments II

You have beautiful moments layered in your memory… I know you do. In fact, you probably have too many to count. You may have lost some with the passage of time, but you have the ability to recall a moment when you were at your most significant. It was when you were sitting around with your friends and you suddenly realized that you were surrounded by goodness. It was when you committed to a partner to stick with them through thick or thin. It was when you felt the white sand beach between your toes. It was something else that I cannot put into words for you because it is so personal or intimate, or it simply lacks sufficient literary expression.

Your moments are when you were filled with contentedness or joy or gratitude or wonder or peacefulness. Perhaps you felt like the world “stood still”. They are the good times, however you may chose to define them. And, to put it bluntly, they make life worth living.

Often we try to capture the essence of the moment, so that we can return to re-live the goodness. Yet how exactly do we capture these moments?

In earlier times, we committed them to memory by the retelling of significant events. Our wondrous moments became stories that were told with animation around mid-night fires. Each time the story was told with different flavour, with emphasis on various words or points in the narration. The memory of our moments would evolve.

We then learned how to draw and paint. We drew basic representations of objects and ideas, and slowly these evolved to life-like paintings of complete scenes and people with facial expressions that added new depth and texture to the re-creation of moments. As we became more precise in our representations, so did the precision of returning to the core emotions of a moment.

As we drew, we created a system of little symbols that represented sounds. When arranged in certain ways, these little symbols would form words, which in term represented various concepts or objects. The words would come together to form sentences, and then sentences to form paragraphs, and paragraphs to stories. We began to write our moments out with ink and paper, so that we could go back and re-experience their magic. Words became a way to travel back in time.

Now our primary mode of returning to our most contented moments is through photography. We click away endlessly with hopes that we will somehow capture the goodness of the moment, so that we can return and re-experience the emotion. With digital photography and video recording, the amount that we can now document is stifling. We are able to capture the landscapes and events of a moment with ease, but even these tools have their limitations.

Perhaps there is a greater reason why we cannot ever fully experience a moment again. Perhaps it is in the best interest of human survival if we are forced to continually seek new joy, rather than re-live older pleasures. Maybe this is what keeps us going – the quest for good feelings and the hope that we will experience pleasant moments again.

Yet despite our inabilities to completely return to a moment, most of us still try to document our times of joy, laughter, achievement, and togetherness. I suppose there is something comforting in taking a photograph or writing a journal; these recorded moments give us something to hold on to. A photo album is a collection of roots, in the sense that it can ground us and give order or connectedness within chaos.

I guess that we try to hold onto moments to create meaning – so that we are not simply random organisms living a series of random events. In capturing our moments, we are able to assemble them into our life’s greatest work… our own life stories. It is a powerful thought to imagine that we can be our own authors.

Who doesn’t want to write a beautiful story filled with beautiful moments?

Your story is coming together.


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