On Nostalgia

"Nostalgia. It’s delicate, but potent.
In Greek, Nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound.
It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone.
This device isn’t a spaceship - it’s a time machine.
It goes backwards, forwards.
It takes us to a place where we ache to go again."
- Mad Men

This is one of the truest, and most sublime quotes I've read in some time. It really speaks to me this morning as I reflect on the past. The older I get, the more nostalgic I seem to become, and it comforts me to know that I might not be alone in it.

I've noticed that there are fewer truly new, blank-slate experiences in my daily life. As the routine events and changes of life become more familiar, they become more and more loaded with meaning. A sunny day, the wind picking up in a certain direction in my neighborhood, the smell of the Bay in the fog, all of these sensual experiences are not unique occurrences, and more and more frequently these experiences leave me momentarily frozen, lost in the past.

This morning, it was the way the sun was so bright through the cold air, a telling sign that by midday it would be warm. All at once memories - of getting up early for coffee before senior ditch day, of early morning St. Patrick's Day drink-a-thons with my best friends, of summer road trips beginning at the crack of dawn, of waiting for the early train to go to the City - came rushing into my head as I waited for the car to warm up. Momentarily I was visiting lost events from the past, completely forgetting the moment I was actually in.

I used to get sad when I felt the twinge of nostalgia, but as I've gotten older, I've begun to embrace it as a way of appreciating where I've been, and recognizing past experiences for their appropriate influence on my future. It makes me wonder what it's going to be like when I'm old, and I've truly seen it all. When every odd weather combination, every sunset, every smell, and most of the songs are familiar to me, forgotten and remembered again throughout the years of my life. Will it be comforting, reminding me of a full life well lived? Or will it still bring on that strange twinge that comes when remembering treasures so long gone?

I am at least encouraged by this thought - that every day I'm alive, I'm creating the memories that could bring me peace in my old age. It reminds me to make every day count, because one day, these memories could be my most precious possession. And nostalgia, no longer a delicate and potent pain, my fondest and most familiar friend.