Moments become real when they’re memories


I’m not going on a Hegelian rant. But having studied history ( in and outside of the building that hands out degrees ) I’ve been taught to appreciate the past as a complete chapter in and of itself. Equally, it’s always been a ‘thing’ among the spiritual seekers and masters ( a recent example being Eckhart Tolle, with his “power of now” ) to stress the present as a complete moment in and of itself.
Yet I have to somewhat and kindly disagree with both positions. Sure, it helps none to ruminate on the past and long for the future and thus lose track of the here and now. And sure, the past does not require our magical wand to become valuable or is but a mere stepping stone to a more ideal future.
But during this journey, one of my aching suspicions becomes obvious. It’s as if every moment in life awaits to be processed, part of life’s harvest, accumulated by the mind present in each and every single one of them, and finally, in whatever near or distant future, it will fully unravel its aroma and taste like a fine wine.
Hong Kong, Macau, Taiwan, all memories. And they are getting far removed from me with each day. But how fantastic they look in the sunset of what’s gone.
Breathe it in. It’s great just as it is. But the splendour of it all will come even later.

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