Burnt out ends of smoky days. The stale cold smell of morning.
It's strange how certain songs can be tied so closely to memories of certain parts of your life, especially if you listened to that song a lot during that part.
When I was a child, I remember having a cassette tape with lots of nice children songs, including Top of the World and my personal favourite song, the name of which I cannot recall. But it's the one that goes "I love to go/ A-wandering/ Upon the mountain track/ And as I go/ I love to sing/ With my knapsack on my back/ Valderi/ Valdera... etc". And also the vintage mando songs that play on radio. So every time I hear some old mando song or a song from my cassette tape, it brings me back to those childhood years. And I never know the names of those songs, but the tunes and lyrics come unbidden to my mind even if it's been years since I last heard the song. It's a very comforting, warm feeling.
When I was a student, I would study to music in the background. I realised, thereafter, that during examinations songs would pop into my head without me having to consciously think about them, and they'd go on repeating themselves as I tapped my feet along and happily went on completing my exam paper. I have a strong suspicion the songs are tied to the information I've mugged, so when they pop up in my head, the information comes together, or vice versa.
During my later HO months and MO posting, I'd sometimes plug my thumb drive into a computer and play songs as I discharged patients. Thus, some songs elicit memories of doing discharge summaries. Strangely enough, these memories are a lot more visceral. At times, I feel a sudden disorientation as I suddenly envision myself in the same MO room and it's almost as if I'm really there, and it feels so real, and what's more disconcerting is not the feeling of the place but the feeling of the people who shared the space with me, such strong imprints they are on my memory that they materialise around me. And this is the kind of memory that feels like a hook embedded in your intestines that is suddenly and firmly tugged, and brings along such a mixed bag of feelings that I don't quite know what it is I'm experiencing. It makes me realise how powerful these memories are, and even more, how important they are to me. They evoke in me such longing and so much wistfulness.
And it's not because these are the kind of memories that are made of sweet jolly bouncy mushy happy stuff, they're everything but. The memories resonate with the feeling of how the work was tough, the days long, sometimes almost unbearable and so exhausting and you didn't know where to find the strength to go on, and yet, you did, because you had people around you who shared your pain, and stretched out their hand, and held yours, and walked together, and when things got better you could all sit down together and enjoy those better times, though they never lasted long, but at least there were those times. And life's like that. It's not all about the gloriously happy moments filled with sunshine and sweetness, nor about the darkest lows and the despair that you never thought you could be rid of. It's about these memories you share with others so strongly that they get embedded in your gut, not just your hippocampus, and that's how I find that living is worth it. It's such a bittersweet feeling. It can get so intoxicating to live in memories, to wish that everything could return to that beautiful moment in time, such that it breaks your heart to accept that it will never be so, but one has to look forward and create new memories that are worth reliving. A million little shards of scintillating beautiful painful joyful Harry Potter-esque pictures-that-move embedded under your skin unto the end of your life when they become your testimony to the brilliance of life.
I'm starting to get a little incoherent. No, I'm not on hallucinogens. Though I can actually almost see swirls of fuchsia and mauve exploding in the air around me. I think I need some sleep.
When I was a child, I remember having a cassette tape with lots of nice children songs, including Top of the World and my personal favourite song, the name of which I cannot recall. But it's the one that goes "I love to go/ A-wandering/ Upon the mountain track/ And as I go/ I love to sing/ With my knapsack on my back/ Valderi/ Valdera... etc". And also the vintage mando songs that play on radio. So every time I hear some old mando song or a song from my cassette tape, it brings me back to those childhood years. And I never know the names of those songs, but the tunes and lyrics come unbidden to my mind even if it's been years since I last heard the song. It's a very comforting, warm feeling.
When I was a student, I would study to music in the background. I realised, thereafter, that during examinations songs would pop into my head without me having to consciously think about them, and they'd go on repeating themselves as I tapped my feet along and happily went on completing my exam paper. I have a strong suspicion the songs are tied to the information I've mugged, so when they pop up in my head, the information comes together, or vice versa.
During my later HO months and MO posting, I'd sometimes plug my thumb drive into a computer and play songs as I discharged patients. Thus, some songs elicit memories of doing discharge summaries. Strangely enough, these memories are a lot more visceral. At times, I feel a sudden disorientation as I suddenly envision myself in the same MO room and it's almost as if I'm really there, and it feels so real, and what's more disconcerting is not the feeling of the place but the feeling of the people who shared the space with me, such strong imprints they are on my memory that they materialise around me. And this is the kind of memory that feels like a hook embedded in your intestines that is suddenly and firmly tugged, and brings along such a mixed bag of feelings that I don't quite know what it is I'm experiencing. It makes me realise how powerful these memories are, and even more, how important they are to me. They evoke in me such longing and so much wistfulness.
And it's not because these are the kind of memories that are made of sweet jolly bouncy mushy happy stuff, they're everything but. The memories resonate with the feeling of how the work was tough, the days long, sometimes almost unbearable and so exhausting and you didn't know where to find the strength to go on, and yet, you did, because you had people around you who shared your pain, and stretched out their hand, and held yours, and walked together, and when things got better you could all sit down together and enjoy those better times, though they never lasted long, but at least there were those times. And life's like that. It's not all about the gloriously happy moments filled with sunshine and sweetness, nor about the darkest lows and the despair that you never thought you could be rid of. It's about these memories you share with others so strongly that they get embedded in your gut, not just your hippocampus, and that's how I find that living is worth it. It's such a bittersweet feeling. It can get so intoxicating to live in memories, to wish that everything could return to that beautiful moment in time, such that it breaks your heart to accept that it will never be so, but one has to look forward and create new memories that are worth reliving. A million little shards of scintillating beautiful painful joyful Harry Potter-esque pictures-that-move embedded under your skin unto the end of your life when they become your testimony to the brilliance of life.
I'm starting to get a little incoherent. No, I'm not on hallucinogens. Though I can actually almost see swirls of fuchsia and mauve exploding in the air around me. I think I need some sleep.