Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Forever Young? Or Forever at What Age?
Strange how my brain forms. In tiny patterns.
Man, I do miss Thomas Dolby's genius sometimes, but this came to me reading Ian's response to my Remembrance Day post. What is it about getting older that keeps a part of us tied to the past, or is just the result of feeling sad that there are people and places we remember, that came before, and will never come again? For me, I think it's the latter, and the idea of just wanting to freeze a moment in time. Rush has a great bit in their song Time Stand Still that really captures how I feel sometimes:
(Time stand still)
I'm not looking back
But I want to look around me now
(Time stand still)
See more of the people and the places that surround me now
Freeze this moment a little bit longer
Make each sensation a little bit stronger
Experience slips away
I don't think I would want to stay forever young, although I really do think the song is one of the best things that came out of 1984. I chose the youtube video with the lyrics because they are a great snapshot of a young songwriter caught in the nuclear fear of the cold war's dying days, and there is great beauty in the melody and lines. What would be interesting, maybe, would be to freeze time, to pick a moment when you were at the peak of your powers, or your happiness. What would you choose and why?
I would go back to being 35 or so. It's the late nineties, I've been living alone for over a year, I've met Austin although he is not yet made the move to Canada so it's still this long-distance thing we're working through, and I am at the top of my game in every direction. I am finally financially stable, it's just me and the beasts, I'm laying the ghosts of one failed marriage to rest, and I've picked up my pen after 15 years. The story is still waiting for me, but now I am ready to tell it- I have managed to live a little more, my writing skills are sharper and more defined, and I am finally excited about the idea of being a writer. I am determined to travel again, to pick up a tennis racket more often, to investigate new ways of using up my energy- belly dancing is coming, so is yoga, and swimming, and I have will never feel sluggish and weak again. It is the beginning of the many changes that will bring me here, to 2010, still carving out the writer's path and looking forward to the free year that is just eight months within my grasp so that yoga, swimming, and tennis will be allowed again as the shoulder moves ever closer to full restoration. I'm 80% there, so close, and yet I can patiently wait, because I learned in 1998 that the novel I started in 1980 would have been a disaster if I had rushed it then.
What about you? Would you freeze a moment a little bit longer? If so, which one?
Close your eyes and enjoy the song. It's still beautiful all these years later, although I also like the Jay-Z/ Mr. Hudson version.
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8 comments:
"I learned in 1998 that the novel I started in 1980 would have been a disaster if I had rushed it then."
Ah wise words of experience, I know what you mean-
Lovely post Anne Marie. Poignant and yet optimistic all at once. Music is so key to our memories and feelings, isn't it?
There are many moments I would like to freeze in time but mostly to change the course of what followed on, which sadly one can never do.
Ah, the age old quest for eternal youth...
To be honest, I would not go back, nor would I freeze a moment or longer. I want to experience life to it's fullest and that would not be acheived by returning to or freezing a certain frame of time.
I will simply recall those pictures in my mind.
Although, I often wonder -
If I knew then what I know now...
As I was recording the sounds of the fair for my recent animation, a modern version of this came over one of the rides' speakers. I kept that file in the video (only just audible over the sounds of the crowd towards the end). It seemed appropriately in context with what was going on around me.
There's also a Dylan song, "Forever Young", which I'm particularly fond of as it is from the perspective of an adult singing to someone younger (maybe a child, maybe a scholar, a nephew or niece): "May god bless and keep you always, May your wishes all come true, May you always do for others, And let others do for you. May you build a ladder to the stars, And climb on every rung, And may you stay, Forever Young".
Would I want to stay Forever Young? Some people just do. It's not about appearances. It's not always about health. And it's not necessarily something that is always a "good thing". It's just a mind-set some people have. Anne Marie, you will always be young. Conversely, I've known people that never ever we're.
Would I want to "go back"? Well, with the exception of one certain country estate where I'm happy to just sit and enjoy an ice cream with my sketchbook (and would never for one moment want to try and contact anyone there), I've never ever gone back anywhere. Not the places I've worked, nor went to school / college, nor past relationships. I've always had this perception of time like a large vinyl album, and all the things I've been, and all the people I met, and places I lived, are all still out there on the other tracks. So rather than one time line that starts at the bottom and goes to the top, mine is kind of parallel. I know this isn't an original concept, but it is the way I've always felt about things. Maybe that's why I've never thought much about "getting old", apart from the fact I am constantly surprised to see my uncle in the shaving mirror every morning!
Favourite times of my life would be (in no particular order): Primary School aged 8 - 11 when big sister was out of the way; Art Foundation aged 18 - 19 when it was Art all day; ages 34 - 36 when sex and relationships were more fulfilling than those terrible 20's; and last but not least, 2006 - 2010 when I became a free man once more, still engaging in all the crazy activities that Art sends my way. Before I resigned in 2005 (not waiting for retirement) I used to imagine that retiring would be like going back to some half finished playground game of long ago, and all the kids would look up and say "Hey, where've you been? We've been waiting". Like all that time which is taken from us had been served, and now I could go on with the game, or sit on the hillside and finish that drawing of a pheasant's feather I'd found.
You know what? It is a bit like that after all. No, I don't wanna go back. These are the good old days.
As always, lots of wisdom kicking around the comments section.
String, I really do believe things come in their own time, and it was not "time" to produce a decent novel in my late teens. Sure, the plot was there, but the nuance and depth of the characters could never be, because I had no clue how to flesh them out beyond my actual years in that moment. It was worth the wait, I think. I am quite proud of BBE, and like it a whole bunch. It's the only book I tend to re-read every now and then, and not to edit it, but to enjoy it (which is really why I wrote it in the first place). It's on my publishing "to-do" list for next year.
Val, interesting and hopeless dream, isn't it, to want to go back and fix things? That has actually never been something I wished for, because I often think it's our mistakes that make us better people once we work through them.
Dale, memories are the nicest parts of happy times. I am just sometimes wistful that the old cliché of the older you get, the faster it goes, is alas quite a truism, and I am really annoyed that the ride is going to be over before I can enjoy all the twists and turns and spins.
Ian, I do like the image of the vinyl album of time, (with the occasional alarm clocks in a Pink Floyd burst). I get what you're saying about youth just being, and that some people are always old- I teach some of those types, sadly. I often think I wish I could just stay somewhere just a bit longer, because I am so enjoying it. I know Val will understand how much I felt that in the summer, first in Italy, where it was just sublime and not in a "we're on vacation" sense, but just the enormity of what the culture and day-to-day life represents, the feast of the senses and the joyfulness that is the essence of that magnificent country, and I don't mean that in a sirupy, let's bring in Sting to do yoga in a Tuscan villa kind of way. I wouldn't be spending my days in a yoga pose if you could teleport me back to Siena, I can tell you that. I felt it again in Rotterdam with Koos and Val, the sense of just really enjoying the moment and not wanting it to be over so quickly. That's how I define the freezing of time- I guess I am that last one out of the party type of person, keenly aware that the ride is short but so far it is a great one, and I just want to live it to the fullest too but damn is it ever going fast. Perhaps next year will allow that slowdown, a mini-freeze of sorts.
Ian, I love the Dylan version, as well as the Rod Stewart title of the same name and its hybrid lyrics and ideas. Interesting that he was almost sued by Dylan before giving him co-writing credits.
xx
AM
A really lovely post. Especially, I must tell you: the recent winner of the national book award here (a former prof in the program I graduated from) was (I felt) generous to point out her book came from an ms she had stashed away back ten years ago to pull it out only not long ago and looksee she won the big one!
How's your forehand swing? Tennis and writing or writers go together, you know?
you know!
-gina
Gina, thanks for sharing your prof's experience- it is always good to know that waiting can be a good thing.
My forehand swing will be making a reappearance this summer after two years off. I am so looking forward to going back to my beloved game.
xx
AM
I am thinking of you! and, definitely, of summer.
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