November 11th, 2007 Fred McVittie
When we are invited to look into the past, to consider who we are in relation to who we were, in which direction do we look? When we usually look back in time we look… back. We tend to consider time as a kind of river that is bearing us forward, or as a road that we have traveled, with the events of the past littering that road like the cast-off skins of a snake, or like flotsam bobbing in a boat’s wake and receding behind us as we proceed toward the distant shores of the future. There is the school we went to, and there are our parents. And the further back in time we look the more distant are the objects and events we look to. Last year is close on our heels, our memory of reading that newspaper item about a bombing and the death of some people we will never know, or the article about that celebrity coming our of rehab. Beyond these recent landmarks, and perhaps diminished by distance, we might see that same celebrity going into rehab, and the atrocity which provoked the planting of that bomb. These remote incidents may be harder to make out, blurring into the haze of hundreds of others, or they may be occluded by those events which followed them, and which now follow us. Here is the past as a journey that we are taking, and a country that we are constantly emigrating from..
Thinking about the past of our own self, our own most personal sense of being, is somewhat different however. Whilst the events, places, and people of the past are left behind in our life journey, our past self is not so easily abandoned by the roadside. Think back to your tenth birthday, maybe you had a party, maybe someone gave you a microscope, or a Hot Wheels set, or a book about trains. Or maybe your party was cancelled because you had a fever and had to spend the day in bed. Maybe you remember that day very well or maybe you hardly recall it at all. If you can revisit that day you may find yourself looking out briefly through the eyes of your newly ten-year-old self and maybe even feeling the stirrings of those smaller bones and muscles within your own. You may find yourself drawn to stand how you stood when you took the present from your Mother’s arms, or hold your hands in the way you held them as you adjusted the focus on that microscope for the first time, squinting down through the eyepiece at the gigantic wing of a housefly.
Here the past is not behind you, lost along the road or adrift in ancient seas, the past of your self is lurking inside, just beneath the skin of the present. The skin of this snake is not sloughed off, abandoned, and left for dead, but is grown over with its circulation and its senses intact. Your ten-year-old self is not doomed to wander lost through 1970’s supermarkets or wait to be picked up by school gates that no longer exist, its home is secured in the body of the here and now.
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