Nostalgia is what one carries with the consideration of the past. It is typical for nostalgia to arise when thinking of particular periods or of a place that are hallowed with positive associations. It is, just as well, a perception of just how constructive what lay behind us, has helped to shape the foundation of who we are now. It is the landscape which happened by chance to decorate itself inside us that no one can ever can take away from us, not even ourselves. Nostalgia harvests the melancholy of loss with the joy of satisfaction. It is true that loss is never copious, due to the fact that nostalgia exists within us. As mortal as we are, whatever memories we have captured from the throngs of death are forever ours.
As I awaken on my 41st birthday today, I cannot help but feel a sense of nostalgia. I can’t help but ponder upon all of those precious memories that have helped shaped the man I was, and more importantly the man I am becoming. Without these memories—these stepping-stones upon life’s mountain—I would not be where I am today. Nostalgia is natural and common emotion that conveys a positive outlook on the future. It is a vessel that travels beyond the dampening confines of both time and space. Certain scents, sights, and sounds rearrange our thoughts to a happier place. I consider nostalgia to be a portal of time that motions us towards the comforts of positivity.
Nostalgia is enveloped with a multitude of adaptive purposes. We often awake everyday, to arise in the same humdrum of absurd normalcy. Nostalgia lends to us a much needed context, a hint of perspective—it points us the direction that reminds us that life is not as clichéd as it may seem on any given day. It offers our lives a narrative that there have been—and once again—shall be meaningful and monumental occasions that provide shelter for the wearied lonesome. It is insofar that nostalgia could be compared with the same functions as anticipation, which is defined as enthusiasm for an unexpected event that breathes with excitement. It is within the haunts of good times past that the imagination of what’s to come—strengthens our spirit during those deserted intervals of life.
These memories that I hold so dear with their nostalgic undertones are the compendium of my soul. All of these beautiful memories I consider to be the anthology of my creative tendency—what I have created and will continue to create was fabricated by all of you that I have known in some way, shape, or form—or better yet—a memory.
As I wander out of the darkness in this wilderness I call my mind, I find myself beneath a tree. I start to reflect upon my life. I see all of the memories I’ve been blessed with scattered like fallen leaves beneath this tree. Giving back to the earth, what I was so fortunate to know and see. The branches growing from this tree still grow upright. Some are just sprouting, touching the light. This tree it keeps growing, reaching for Heaven above, soaking up the sunshine of a beautiful day. The budding leaves of this tree sing little songs filled with photosynthetic and melodic memories as the delicate winds of change move through me. All the while the roots beneath still dig deep, solidifying the foundation that shall nurture this tree for eternity. And as I say my peace through prayer beneath this tree I turn towards the path that is meant for me. I point my feet in the direction of the Autumn of my life, yet I cannot help but feel the Spring in my step. For the path to my heart has finally been cleared of my mind’s debris.
Til the next time.