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{hindsight} henry gray What matters most is what you remember. It’s the bully in the back of your head, pummeling pessimism. It’s the protective measure that makes your life seem tolerable. Even when it isn’t. I promise: Create beautiful moments, however small, and your death bed recollections will be the greatest story ever told. We are delusional. For the most part, I’ve always considered this a handicap. A retardation. Our defect and ultimately, a source of malnutrition. We see solids where there are, in fact, gigantic atomic holes in all mediums. We weave our vision together in a way that compensates for the blind spot at the center of our visual world. In a way, it’s our delusions that keep us alive. + I learned, long ago, that what really matters to me are my relations to others and: moments. What is truly important are beautiful moments. There are a couple levels to moments: The passive: simply being a part of a moment. While this may appear to be base, and simple, embedded in this may be the most complicated set of skills that we try to obtain – an element that elevates the passive: The active: Otherwise called (in the popular vernacular), being present. Otherwise, we talk about this as: being aware. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Becoming aware and remaining aware involve an active choice. This choice begins in one’s pre-history, its construction does not belong a present moment: to be aware, to be present – these complicated talents are skills won through deliberate toil and practice. But, once won: awareness sets the stage for supreme activity. The active enables: The creation of beautiful moments. Couple skills to sets to time and toil and the reward is: Being an active force in the creation of a moment. To have a hand in the production of something that possesses the potential of being bigger than you may be the most powerful ability that humanity can achieve. + But, I never really assessed why that was – why being a part of beautiful moments and creating them – was so important. Certainly, I have believed in the power of the idea that moments are really all that we have. Life is broken down into small components. Sequences. Sections. Components. Elements. Sights. Sounds. Smells. Words. Individual particles. A few years removed from that realization and it has occurred to me that it’s not so much the moments that are important, it’s the memories that are. And memories are constructed of a smaller particle: moments. Pieces. Parts. Moments. + I am not an optimist. Frankly, I don’t even like optimists. My glass is halfway lit with vodka in it, and I want more. But what I’ve learned, perhaps as a strategy for achieving my addiction for fulfillment or happiness: what matters most are beautiful moments. Even if sparse, they’re life rafts in a great lake of disappointment and boiling toil. For where the jostling cacophony of a workday may leave one with only the memory of yet another horrible choice in vocation and place of employment – extend that: buy a new album and, at sundown take a drive into the crushing blow of sun. Fall in love with the crazy girl who works down the hall from your office and, while she may prove to be an unfit lover – create a cabal: meet out in the parking lot after work so you can both finally relieve that painful tension pulsating between you – meet in that parking lot and you will always remember that first kiss. Toil with a boss who undervalues your true talents, but take a moment to have a smoke out back of the building and call your brother, whom you haven’t spoken to in a year. Miss a couple deadlines because your superior was unable to execute her job but secretly escape to the bar down the road after work every Thursday and sip on their happy hour specials. On the whole your job may be work. But create small moments, here and there, create short beautiful moments – be an active force in your life: and despite the grand melee, you will + Hindsight is the currency. Fuck “being in the moment”. Or, “being present”. Be absent. Take a vacation during your dinner date. Because, the truth is: she doesn’t have that much to say. Delusion is the drink. Sip it. Chug it. Slam it down. I say: moments only last for a few seconds. At best, several seconds. Sure, moments are precious. They’re the great end to our meandering path. It’s the end of production. It’s the creative cranial crap. But what matters most – because it lasts the longest – is the memory. Hindsight: have a crappy day, but create a beautiful moment and live a privileged life. |
