Why does nostalgia make us so sad?
So many happy memories that bring tears to my eyes today.
I guess it's because of everything that's gone. Of precious moments we can only see from afar, but never touch again...
The creeping frost
Encapsulating these memories in the crystalline
We can see them, but never touch them again
Each island floats away
Cresting over the horizon
I watch until it’s gone
Saying good bye in my words
In my soul, I know we are still together
Which makes the distance hurt all the more
I wish this Pangea could last forever
I wish we all could be together
The empty space where you once were
The candle flickers with the passing of spectres
Shades of what is no longer here
I sit alone, the nostalgia collector
I sit alone with my heart ache
But we each have our own roads to take
I wish this Pangea could have lasted forever
I wish we all could still be together
For my memories I hold this private wake
But I know we have our own roads to take
Nothing hits harder than life. Life will beat you to your knees and keep you there if you let it.
A line from one of my favorite movies but no less true.
So many of us push through life in a crucible of our own failings, missed chances, and narrow losses.
But if you've ever watched certain stories unfold there's a place where the hero is defeated many times before and suddenly they find the strength to overcome an obstacle that destroyed them in the past. And they Wonder at this new-found strength.
Because what they didn't realize is that they were facing much greater challenges then the obstacle they were looking at all along. The other thing they don't realize is that for all the immense strength they showed in defeating that opponent or overcoming that mountain they are actually far stronger than any of that.
Because the scars and the hurt and the pain and the discouragement and everything else that told them to stop and turn around and give up pushed against them like a hurricane of white-hot blistering sand.
And in those periods of the unimaginable cruelty of life they would have traded anything in the world to get away from that pain. But digging down to not just survive but to overcome they became something more than they ever thought possible.
And so too will you. The defeats of the past are not your legacy. The moments that your knees buckled because it hurt too much to stand doesn't mean that you can't run again.
Because you've been training your whole life to unlock the hidden Force within you and you never even knew it. So go forth my friend I know but the greatness of of the Gods and of your every dream and desire dwells within you.
And all you have to do is unleash it and believe.
No one cares about your art. No one wants to hear what you have to say. Nobody is waiting for your next work to hit the public…
...Do you still want to do it anyway?
Good.
Because that’s what it was all about in the first place. Before the views, and the likes, and the awards and the money, before any outside influences made you question what you do, you did it because you were drawn to it. Because the medium spoke to you, and you spoke through it. Because it brought you joy and wonder and reminded you that magic was real.
Because it brings you a sense of completion in an otherwise uncertain and chaotic world.
And maybe someone, somewhere told you they liked what you did. That it touched them, moved them, helped them, made them feel something. And you smiled. Like you’re smiling right now, remembering it. And maybe nobody told you. No one said how you made them feel, or that they liked what you did. Either because they got busy, or distracted, or had to leave the event. Or maybe they just felt awkward or scared to approach you, because what you do meant a lot to them and they didn’t want to ruin the experience by being brushed aside when they approached you. (Not saying you were going to, but we tend to psyche ourselves out at times when approaching someone we admire.)
Maybe your work reminded them of a lost art of their own. Of something that brought them joy and completion. And maybe after seeing your work, they picked up that pen or that brush or those dance shoes for the first time in years, and flourished them with a renewed smile that cast away layers of insecure frowns.
Maybe it just touched one person. Maybe it just touched me. Maybe it just touched you.
But isn’t that what it’s all about in the first place? Isn’t that what makes it all worth it?
So what if ‘nobody’ cares? It was never about them in the first place.
Keep making the world a brighter place as only you can. Because I care. And because you care. And because the world would be a little duller without your unique brand of wonderful in it.
What would I do, if I were free
To see all the different versions of me
I never want to be
Flip through the channels
Of could have been
And never was
Just because
I wanted to be seen
The me I didn't know
I wouldn't show
Because I was afraid
And I didn't know how to let go
I think because of how I tried to hold on
And how it burned my hands
My heart
My soul
But which decisions would leave me whole?
I don't know
All I had to do was guess
A roll of the dice
And jump backwards into destiny
You see so many times
In the movies, how they say good bye
When you live, and write, create, entertain
You know the right words live in your brain
But the moment comes
It's far too real
That no words and capsulate
Quite how you feel
You say I love you
I'll miss you
Goodbye
And all the rest leaves your mind
As you start to cry
I'm glad I knew you
I got to love you
I got to smile when
I'm thinking of you
I got to live next to you
There with you
For the time we were given
I'm grateful
Even though I'm sad
At the times we had
Like broken rungs on a ladder, these wishes stack
But I know these are times I'm never getting back
And as we bury you
I bury too
The parts of you I knew
Because every soul, every set of eyes
Will realize, a different aspect of our lives
Each perception of two hearts shared
Means something unique for every two lives paired
And I'm glad, though I'm sad, of the times that we had
That we shared, a journey
Of just you and me
