In The Attic Of My Mind
Photo by Sanaz from her recent trip to Tehran, Iranian.com, January 14, 2008. I missed Tajrish so much today.
I have been a little under the weather. When I'm sick and bored, too weak to accomplish anything, I have no choice but to think and reflect. I have been thinking, which could be a dangerous thing for me! I have been remembering moments, snippets of conversations, fleeting feelings, and lasting memories. It's really rather funny. We won't talk about just how old I am, but let's just say that I have been around the block a few times and back! In all of the things I have done in my life, the places I have been, the people I have met, the meetings I attended, the trips I have taken, the things I have owned, and the things I have lost, my boldest memories, the ones that I keep near and dear to my heart, are all in really simple, ordinary, and very austere settings. For example, a trip I took to somewhere far. I may remember something that happened, something which was said or done on that trip. The thing that I remember is not about how posh the hotel was in which I stayed, or where in the airplane that took me there I sat, or in which fancy restaurants in that faraway place I ate. It is almost invariably a memory of a conversation, a meeting, or a feeling I had in a roadside cafe, or walking down the street when the rain broke out, or the scents I smelled while visiting the downtown area of that city. Somehow, somewhere in my mind, the opulence or physical attributes of the experience are diminished to zero, leaving me with only the essence of the experience and the memory. I don't know if I explained a feeling that is baffling to myself very well.
Lying in my bed and looking at the ceiling today, I remembered how I was sitting at the table for two somewhere, sipping a simple cup of tea, feeling safe, wanted, fulfilled, and joyous. It was a happy memory. It was a wonderful flashback to a time that was bold and beautiful as it was taking place. It wasn't tainted with loss or longing. It didn't have any questions hanging from it, it was clear, crisp, and bright. Though long gone, with pain and sadness in its wake for a while, today the memory felt gorgeous, cheerful, and dear. It was framed perfectly placed inside a frame of love. This was really the most perfect sick day of the past year, for so much that has been cluttered and pushed around inside my heart, finally seems to be taking shape, falling into place, and getting organized to beautiful effect. I think lying on that bed, looking at the ceiling today, I found something really good in the attic of my mind.