‘Ah, that is what I was doing.’ The voice in my head says ‘you should count these’, these times that you were lost & found. Then the idea passes. Counting that is, immediately distracted by how familiar this eureka, what was once mere recall, seems over the most mundane of things: cat food cans open, tea in microwave, shoes in room x, list on table b, vitamin on the counter, stove on…with unmonitored scary outcomes, lights left burning. Sometimes the smells call me back to the kitchen. And I fear that more times, will be alarmed for smoke, if I do not get more connected. Yes I think the issue is staying connected.
When I try to speak of these instances of forgetfulness, the ‘me too stories’ of misplaced keys, missed b’days or late recall of appointments are instant retorts from the listener. And I know that it is common to forget – maybe due to excessive busyness or poor list management; but when is being ‘disconnected’ from what you are doing become outside of the understandable. What is the benchmark, the count? What is not common?
My son suggests it is not a topic for jest, or discussion. It is not real – this loss of mindfulness. My partner – jests. He shares the room and the life that will become more unknown to me and he too does not want this to become more real.
I have a T-shirt and bumper sticker that says “I do what the Voices in my head tell me”. In jest, the retort is it would be a better imprint if it said “I do what the Voices in my head remember to tell me”. Lists I try them. Forget them. They find different places like cell phone and keys and those documents made specifically to not go in such circles again. My life’s work was geared toward removing redundancy and now I feel captive to it.
The silver lining: I like the feeling of remembering ideas previously connected to. Not experiences so much. With ideas I rehearse remembering, the voice in my head repeating key phrases so that in the short term I will be able to engage in potentially engaging conversations. If too much time passes, and I am not certain what the duration is, these key phrases come back to me as sounds I cannot quite catch. Not quite the same as searching for a name to go with a face; it is more like a hum of words to a song that is familiar but you really do not know the lyrics. This happened to me before. When I tried to learn another language and when my Instructors had strong accents. One thing I do recall is this feeling associated with my Final Exam for Russian Literature.
As I try to recall – I think her name was Nona (it just came to me as I stretched into remembering) Welleck (spelling to be confirmed). She was particular taken with an author whose name began with a G. I was too; but without doing an Internet search I will not be able to tell you the author or the compelling interest. She was a young communist by lack of options. She was married to a significantly older man (maybe too due to lack of options) and they lived on St. Ronan St. (a street that holds some intrigue). He too was published and in many languages. He was employed by Yale and she was slumming teaching at SCSU. All this is shallows from a time that I ingested ideas and seemed full of excitement connecting literature, history and social relevance together. But not one of these bits of knowledge come to me…but I know if I see something in print I may feel a Eureka rush of recall – that will be like mist within no time at all.
I know the mind is capable of more. I see its elasticity and girth in the gifts of my son and partner and I vaguely recall such capabilities from my childhood. I know I scored incredibly high in mechanical aptitude (Military Entrance Exam) at 17 when my only exposure to such things was overheard conversations between my brothers & father at dinner. There was a time when I was connecting. I wanted to study Russian via immersion. Long ago assumptions of capability.
As I post I realize that this scribble has taken a few hours to construct and that I started it in the middle of the night because the rain was making me anxious: intense downpours, winds and thunder. I actually felt afraid...and wanted distraction. I am now hearing it again through the voices and I am tired...so I will go back to my pillow and wish intently for sleep.
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