We live in an age where everything is happening so fast that we actually don’t know what is really happening anymore, we just go a head and do what we must. Supersonic jets and high speed trains, skyscraping towers to outer-space conquering shuttles and satellites, we really don’t know what our limit is anymore, we just move ahead, hand in hand with modern science. but the speed of going forward is so great that sometimes we are unintentionally left behind, mentally if not physically.
Everything moves with high velocities all writings seem to be done in cryptic ways, and everyone seems to know what they are to do and how to do them but I’m not very sure if they know the why. everything is planned and arranged for you. everything is fixed. but there come times when we would like to slow down, or stop for a while, or even move towards a different direction, backwards, nostalgically.
I think that such moments are important and even necessary. We need the time to take a deep breath, or maybe hang around a little longer. it also serves us as an occasion to be with ourselves, and to be a little kind to ourselves.
A few weeks ago I went through my old trunk that I haven’t opened for quite some time. The first thing that came out from it was a book of poems by Robert Browning. it brought a smile on me face. I remembered my school days when Browning, not Ashbery or Ammons, was my favorite poet. I saw myself reading ‘My Last Duchess’ in the class. and then an old harmonica that I used to play came out. then a teddy bear. but this bear had something around its neck. It’s a silver necklace, the one given to me by my grandmother. I had forgotten about it together with how she had loved me during her days on earth. this one brought some tears in my eyes. I immediately removed it from the bear’s neck and tried it on. it looked a little small for me but it was all right. I could wear it. it was like a message from my long gone grandma saying, “I love you”. It’s amazing what those gifts of love can do. they can even win over time.
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