Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Door to the Secret Garden

The violin has elicited nostalgia that cannot be expressed through words but I am going to make an attempt: In a dream I had last night I felt like I was walking through the door to a secret garden, into a thought process hidden away for years, only to find myself in an odd space between my consciousness during youth and the current frame of mind. It felt like one of those dreams where you find a secret room in your apartment that you never knew was there, and the discovery is exhilarating. I was 12 again. Navigating my peers, and seeing them through the lens of my innervating and sprouting ego. I was 12, but I was 25, at the same time. I saw that deep inner me again. I was interacting with friends, I was seeing myself with old classmates, trying to insert myself in conversation, my 25 year-old self was asking my 12 year-old self, have any of those traits expressed then carried over to now?

I remembered the feeling of 12, the almost constant state of question marks and the noticeable distance from those older and wiser. Now that gap is narrowing, yet my brain can still bring me back to that moment, to that uneasy but unburdened state of the youth, not knowing how to act and how to respond, but not having to know. Contently treading the waters and enjoying the water temperature. Nostalgia is an understatement, feeling presence of the inner me was opening a locked door to a garden of the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen.

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