This afternoon I had a few unique moments. They coincided in a sense from what I later listened to in ‘On Being’ about mysticism, specifically Jewish mysticism in the Kabbalah..
I had a sudden and unexpected feeling as I stopped at a rest area on my way to Job’s Pond this evening. It is difficult to express in words, a difficulty that was affirmed in the On Being interview about the everyday garden variety mystical experience. But I will try.
Unbidden, as I crossed the parking lot toward the rest stop stores, I had a sense of realizing that I am out of touch with deep parts of my memory and my identity, especially at the intersection between those two. It was a sense – without concrete content – of having forgotten at a depth level who I am, how I feel about living, what kind of feelings are most characteristic of me.
Perhaps it is that all these aspects of who I am have changed ‘that much’ over the years since childhood and adolescence. I do not know, but I do know that this passing feeling left me as quickly as it arrived, but with a pronounced sense – again without content – of nostalgia, for something that has been, but cannot now easily be either named or described, never mind recaptured.
Or can it?
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