Tag Archives: looking back

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Starting this month, I’ll be digging through my songwriting/poetry archive to share some thoughts and feelings from days gone by. It’s been an interesting journey, to say the least, and these entries serve as sentimental snapshots, frozen in time, of where I was and where I hoped to venture.

I’ve spent many years putting pen to page in an attempt to make sense of the world around me and my place in it, to varying degrees of success. But I’m supremely grateful for the experiences logged and the memories made.

We have such a finite window when life feels like perpetual possibility. I’d like to think that in the midst of all that mental, physical, and emotional chaos, I was able to carve out a memorable piece of my own path…and maybe help impact a few others along the way.

So here’s to looking back!

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I’m sick of headaches and heartbreaks,
chances of earthquakes,
dreams that I can’t shake,
like sleeping wide awake.
But inside the hating is still contemplating
how a life spent in waiting
can carry the crown.

See my glasses are masses of these blurry lines,
where I’ve conceded defeat and found shelter to hide.
But the answers, like Rubik’s, seem spun out of web.
While the pinballs and flippers rip tilts through my head.

Keeping track of the stack of the jobs left to do,
is like staring at stained-glass I can’t quite see through.
But clearly, my eyes are the last ones to blame.
It’s the passion and hope breaking rules of the game.

I find solace and comfort in a time without sound.
Feet are firmly and rightly set deep in the ground.
Still, the lure to take flight is a constant concern.
Resolution, the tool, to extinguish the burn.

Hungry hearts satiated by the chance of one prize.
Lows will drop and get lower, only rescued by highs.
There’s no theory or law that maps out this course.
Just a strap and a saddle and getting back on that horse.

Layers and layers are left to explore.
Molds are broken, notes taken,
but less open doors.
Question motives and practice,
yet drop every clue.
More eyes open and, this time,
they’re looking at you…

Adolescence Interrupted

…and stop killing animals.

If Wishes Were Granted

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If somehow, miraculously presented with a superpower, I wouldn’t want to fly, be invisible, or possess Herculean strength; I would like to look back at specific times in the past to recapture the feelings of those singular, fleeting moments that shaped and sculpted the unformed mound of raw clay that eventually made me.

To stand in the shoes of a younger version of myself and watch the world with that familiar sense of awe and wonder I felt when I first found my footing, and to walk those steps with the same eager, hopeful anticipation for what’s waiting around the next corner to entice, surprise, or educate would be a profound experience.

The question remains: Do I want to be an active participant who momentarily occupies the body of my junior version, with the ability to influence the future by altering the past…or would I feel better as a silent observer, simply taking in the scene with a detached sense of cheery nostalgia?

I suppose the potential to modify future (present) events could be a tricky business. How could I resist zipping in and out of crucial stumbling blocks or the bumps and bruises of adolescence to rewrite the rules of cool and smooth out the copious wrinkles that ruffled my feathers or occasionally turned that awkward meter up to eleven?

But without the growing pains and ever-present sidewalk-tripping of those formative years, can we truly appreciate the finish line? If life is fundamentally about the journey and not the destination—and that journey has been edited and airbrushed to the point of being unrecognizable—would we still accept that artificiality as reality?

Still, recapturing the essence of some of those wild nights or nascent seconds of fascination for what was possible or achievable and feel it electrically charge my bones again, even briefly, would paint a pretty pleasant visit back to better days.

It might even make it reasonably difficult to return to now.

Adolescence Interrupted

Setting a Junior High Bar

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“Nostalgia is a powerful drug. Under its influence, ordinary songs take on dimensions and powers, like emotional superheroes.”  —Kate Christensen

“Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days.” —Doug Larson

“I don’t like nostalgia unless it’s mine.” —Lou Reed

Before the loss of innocence. When everything mattered, and the world was new and full of exciting prospects. Before the feuding and frustration. Before jaded took the place of buoyant optimism. Before the fall…there was a constant, tireless climb.

This ethereal energy resides in a space without adequate words for accurate descriptions. It lives in the music we run on a loop, the smells and sounds of youth and freedom, and the flashback bang of sudden reminiscence. Sensations wake hibernating butterflies like an instant time machine transportation to moments when our brains were buzzing with bottomless questions and our eyes were painting vivid, multicolored landscapes onto the blank canvases of our consciousness.

To peak at 13 is nothing to brag about, but it’s hard to deny the reality that those “possibility days” were filled with so much more substance, wonder, and potential than the current “every days.” This regular inclination to return to what feels familiar and safe is proof of the power of those vital, formative years. There is an undeniable pull to revisit the psychological head spaces that were inviting and secure, especially since the modern world has become an unpredictable, toxic, and addicted cesspool of anger, abuse, greed, and inequality.

So what’s the move? If we’re stuck standing in the here and now, unable to revert to our former selves, the only salve is memory-strolling through the lighter days and appreciating the fact that they existed in the first place.

Maybe they weren’t supposed to last forever, but nostalgia keeps us chasing that carrot and fighting for even a fleeting glimpse of those first feelings.

Mental snapshots are a lot heavier than JPEGs.

Snap away whenever you can.

Adolescence Interrupted

Looking Back through Boxes

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When you’re the owner of a cloudy, unreliable childhood memory database, digging through boxes from the past is like meeting a younger version of yourself for the first time. Each class photo, laughably short journal entry, or overly detailed paper on the state bird of Delaware is a peek into the world of a focused, curious kid who now walks around in today’s lanky-limbed adult skin.

Taking attic inventory (literally) is a perfect way to chart the course of a life spent wondering and processing. The raw mental materials that would ultimately comprise the cement mix poured into the foundation of an often rigid structure were once still malleable enough to allow room for flexible movement of thought and action.

Hope. Promise. Excitement. Strategy. When we’re young, we overflow with anticipation for what still lies ahead and the pages waiting to be written. There is a hidden naivety beneath that level of optimism, but it’s pretty nice to visit a time before disappointment, disenchantment, regret, or rejection….even if it’s only a temporary trip.

Transporting to the past offers not only a nostalgic walk down memory lane but also a stark reminder of the brevity of that stroll. We spend so much of our developing years watching an hourglass filled with limitless sand empty at an almost imperceptible pace. At some point, we pick up this decorative clock for a closer look at the levels, and we’re shocked by the shifted weight.

It’s easy to take these modern monotonous days for granted, but they are all little limited editions just waiting to be maximized. The tedium of today can be the reminiscence of tomorrow. It’s all in the framing…or reframing.

A marathon is not run on a loop, and there’s a reason we crave scenic variety. But it’s better to fall from trying to outrun the vanishing sand than to be buried beneath it. At least there’s more padding on top of the pile.

Carpe diem. Have a healthy, wonderful, and wholly original 2020.

Adolescence Interrupted