Don't stare. Easily said, not so easily done. But oh what a difference it makes, not pondering, not ruminating, leaving the past squarely where it is, in the past. For all my going on about living in the "now" my affection for Flavor Flav and his credo of "what time is it?", (should I start wearing more watches?) I am easily seduced by the long look back. And exactly to what end? All week, as snow has fallen on my previous address, I have "longed" to be back there, longed to rewind the clock so that I too could be sledding, sipping hot tea, bundled up, having a snow day, watching the dogs crunch though the drifts, listening to the quiet. I assign a feeling to those days, that place, and fear that once I have left, I will never recall that experience, or feel that feeling again.
But does my joy, my love, my feeling truly reside in a place? a time? or within me? And what magic potion must I mix up to re-enact them? I spend an awful lot of time down the rabbit hole of memory, but I need to remember it fully, and not pick and choose.