How Does the Mind Work?

May 18, 2006 20:41

It always surprises me how, from time to time, bits and pieces of the past seem to make their way to the forefront of the brain and come out in what I  often call "mind farts."

A "mind fart" doesn't necessarily make sense to the conversation at hand. They are just suddenly there, in much the same way a regular fart doesn't make its presence known ( Read more... )

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rockstarbrit May 19 2006, 05:19:07 UTC
Well, I don't think we entirely lose the things we feel closest to; we still have our memories to comfort us or to be nostalgic. But if we do "lose" these people, places, and things, it's most likely because we needed to move or they needed to move on to the next stage in life. And sometimes those people and places come back into our lives years later. I believe it really depends on what's meant to be and where you take your life.

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seabird78 May 19 2006, 15:28:14 UTC
I tend to think that every person you meet, every place you vist, and every thing you cherish forms a small piece of your entire life. They're jigsaw pieces snapping into place to create a bigger picture. So it's not that you're losing things, it's just that if those were all you had, you wouldn't have an overall image.

I don't even know if that made any sense.

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mdatl June 2 2006, 20:28:47 UTC
If you believe Tim O'Brien in The Things They Carried, stories (and, I guess, memories) help re-animate those things we feel closest to. So in that sense, we never lose anything.

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ladysankofa June 3 2006, 20:30:14 UTC
Yes, I do believe Tim O'Brien--loved that entire book, by the way--and I've since come to the conclusion that I used the incorrect word in my musings here. It's not the "loss" because psychologically those things are always with us; however, there are people we will never see again, places we will never again revisit...that's what I meant. The physical loss of things.

But then again, they're only "things" right?

Got to rethink this one though again~

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mdatl June 5 2006, 01:40:42 UTC
I'm not immune to fierce bouts of nostalgia myself, mind you. Sometimes it's overwhelming, that sense of "something is irretrievable." I have a lot of dreams in which I'm back in Hopkinsville, KY (where I taught for 3.5 years before I moved to Atl.), either teaching or doing something dreamily, surreally, like it. I still keep in semi-touch with a friend there (he's still at the comm. college, still teaching but also now dept. chair), but my physical ties with the place are eroding (or have eroded, perchance ( ... )

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