August 23, 2010
from the comments
I love the way this shows the different worlds that kids and adults live in, even as they exist together. Adults are distracted by one range of things, children by another–and they are often not seeing the same things at all. And isn’t it odd how we remember childhood by way of images and incidents of the sort that we are later led to think are not significant. I was telling Cindy yesterday that I just noticed an odd feature of my early memories: it occurred to me that every time I think of being ten years old, the same image of myself arises. I’m in the back yard of my parents’ suburban house, doing yard work and pausing to look at the mid-day sky to the west, wishing that I were down at the creek shooting my new slingshot. I guess memory makes icons of moments, placeholders of tone and light–and those moments shed the whole, rather than the other way around. There is no completeness, there is only emergent memory of emergent experience. A sail billowing on the boat that hasn’t been built yet.
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