Like other posts in this blog so far (n = 2), this one offers a combination of self-mockery with a legitimate thought behind it. Perhaps it will end up on the more serious side, for I come today to share some “insights” (quotation marks added because it could turn out to be complete BS) on what I think is the fundamental paradox of nostalgia – a “feeling” I would reckon to be rather democratic in nature, since it does not seem to care about race, creed, or class when it chooses to intrude in someone’s mind.

I suppose I could have started this post with that annoying meme of the guy holding a gun saying “Am I the only one who…”, but I didn’t because I know from experience what I am about to say is shared by many: sometimes I really miss my childhood. Now, I know some people have had a rough childhood, and perhaps those are exempt from the feeling (maybe…maybe not) but most people I met have probably experienced at least one long train of thought filled with intrusive memories of what once was. Often times, that’s not even far enough. Often times, the train goes further into the domain of what we wish it had been. We sketch the past again, but with perhaps a better (or at the very least, different) outcome. Maybe if we were to alter history, that embarrassing scene in the cafeteria in eight grade would go away, dammit…

The problem is, of course, that any minor changes to what was would have destroyed what it has become; that is, an untouchable treasure chest containing all the validating narratives, remembered joys, and reformative scars. In other words, somewhere in the train of thought, there is an intense desire to (a) go back and re-live the past, but most importantly, (b) to change it because we now know something we didn’t know then, and somehow that knowledge would make things better. The paradox is, of course, that at the same time, we don’t want anything to have been different in the past because what was stands at just an untouchable precious treasure inside the chest. To alter it would be…well, sacrilegious in some way.

At this point, I want to apologize for using the “we” pronoun a lot. I always get annoyed when I see random Buzzfeed articles do this, and here I am being a damn hypocrite. I do not wish to say I know how you feel — or that I speak in your behalf — but I am now learning that it is a lot easier to write in that modality because the collectivisation of this experience makes it that much more powerful. Also, I’ll take my chances in arrogantly saying at least one in five readers will probably resonate with at least some of the thoughts here.

Anyway, where were we? The fundamental paradox, right…well, why does it happen? Like, evolutionarily speaking, why do we feel that? I have no idea. Here’s what’s also interesting: the fundamental paradox of nostalgia loves to recapitulate itself over time. It is a self-fulfilling prophecy; a kind of practical joke from whoever designed human psychology. I mentioned childhood in this post, but I know the closer reality now is my nostalgia towards my college life. I know this is true for most of my friends, and especially true to the annoying drunk alumni that flood campus during football games. But why does nostalgia recapitulate itself? At face value, we can just stop now and ask: who cares? It’s a sweet thing to feel, we don’t want to destroy it. It causes no harm in the rights levels. And yes, I agree with that — to some extent. I don’t know about you, but at least in my life, there were times where the desire for this treasure chest bordered a pathological level. It prevented me from being in the present. I want to have a healthy relationship with my treasure chest. It should be there, proudly displayed on the shelf. It should not take the entire room, or house, to itself.

If you read this whole post and didn’t hate it, I’d like you to think about all of this in the context of your life. Ask yourself if any of this has been true for you, and most importantly, why do you think this “chest” exists in the first place. Here’s my taken on it…

I am tempted to say nostalgia recapitulates itself in my life as a mechanism for self-stability. In challenging times, there may be excesses where pathological levels are reached, and what begins as a simple dose of escapism becomes an addiction. However, perhaps unlike a substance addiction, I have found that over time, the system can solve itself with simple meaning-reapropriation and willpower (not to say that those can’t resolve substance addictions, but the psychological literature tends to paint that scenario as pretty unlikely).

This does not mean that it’s fine to do nothing because it will go away. It means that to make the treasure chest something beautiful but non-intrusive, there is a legitimate effort that needs to be made to find meaning and “flow” (a psychological term to denote the autotelic nature in meaningful activities) in any circumstance. This is the current struggle, but, following my appreciation and application of Buddhist philosophy in my life, I sincerely believe that the simple awareness of the problem is already a huge step towards its solution. I see the treasure chest. I cherish it. When the treasure feels cherished, it’s more likely to be happy with where it is. When it’s happy, it doesn’t see the need to make itself noticed.

It doesn’t stop there of course…to understand why it exists, if there is a reason at all, there must be some good that comes out of it. If that’s true, then there must also be a way to maximize and leverage that to one’s advantage. A sort of personal enhancement, if you will. I also have a take on this. If there is any good in nostalgia, one can probably find it in (a) its mechanisms of dopamine-release through happy memory recall, and (b) leaning mechanisms through the scars. One can, after all, better oneself by remembering the past — especially the kind of troubled past that surprisingly carries nostalgia with it (legitimate question: is this thought odd to you? I find that I feel nostalgia to several sad moments in my life, so long as they were “meaningful”, namely, if I could extract some lesson or validation from it).

Well then, maybe there is some meaning to the treasure chest, and maybe it is good that we have it there. Maybe then, there is a reason why we have the fundamental paradox too. Maybe this conflict exists to force us to come to terms with the reality that sometimes one’s past isn’t perfect; yet, this should be no reason to think of it as any less beautiful, precious, or worth protecting. The past may just be a series of ghosts imprinted in what we come to memory…but it’s also the base for how we come to think of the world, how we come to plan the future, and especially how we come to define ourselves.

So, don’t forget about the chest. Say hello to it. But don’t depend on it. Don’t change it. Maybe one day, you won’t even want to anymore…

(…)

On the next episode of “Theories Of Time”…

…The Geographical Dependency of Time Perception.

Stay tuned.