Humans are funny.
They look back in wonder as if they never set foot in the past, as if the time that has (mistakenly) been robbed from them was the Buddha’s belly of prosperity, Santa Claus’ bag of spite or even a lucky charm taken from the shallow margins of the Ganges in India.
The past is a word seldom used with the lightness it deserves: time is a concept turned into a commodity. We learned to value it too much. Placing things or others on a pedestal was never the best way to keep them close and cherish the presence of the love you feel for them.
Anything we hold too dear, too precious and too frail may soon turn out to be wasted without being used, like the time one could say I wasted putting these words down onto a blank screen. The past is what we make of it, just like our future.
Anyway, without getting too deep into the philosophy of time past, I’d like to share yet another silly rambling related to a memory (from my past) that remains close to my heart. Are you ready for this? I’d like to talk about a…
film. No joke!
In the past, when I was a kid, ~ or a girl, or whatever ~ I grew up watching films. Marilyn Monroe, Audrey Hepburn, John Cusack, Jack Nicholson, Morgan Freeman, Johnny Depp, Tom Cruise… no. Nope. None of the previously mentioned stars appeared in the films I grew up watching.
My stars were quite different, indeed. I was raised with a type of freedom that allowed me to not want to do what I was… allowed to do (thanks mom! Thanks dad!). I wanted to embrace the freedom of not indulging in it and thriving in a type of cinema I still find quite fascinating to this day: the underrated.
I don’t say this and take pride in what I now rationalize and believe to be a tremendously bold choice for such a young mind. I rather speak of this fact with a deep knowledge that I would have never learned English or learned to love film or care for music and letters if I hadn’t watched a simple and completely forgotten, existentially boring, mind blowing etc etc etc classic of the 90s alternative (read NERD) scene: Mindwalk (thank you physics teacher!).
Mindwalk set the tone and the rhythm I faithfully danced to throughout my early teenage years. It molded and folded and forged who I am now. It gave me something other films could have never given to me: a necessity to question even those certainties a suicidal man carries like heavy rocks in his pockets as he walks into the lake…
So when I think of the past and I hope to see it in a bright shade of pink, I rather not; I see it fuzzy and grey, but full.
Full? What’s there? you ask.
A huge, grey mass of questions and suspense.
~ Just like it should be.
Here is a taste of Mindwalk: