Day 199
I meet people often, who have traveled to all kinds of wonderful places, but who have not been changed much as a result. This seems off to me. Is it that these people's conditions and dispositions are so solid that a few new sights and sounds are insufficient to faze? Or is it perhaps that some people are simply less receptive to stimuli than are others? I imagine that the latter is true. It isn't enough to simply present an experience to oneself, to stand before it as it were. It isn't enough in life to merely allow oneself to be a part of things, to see new things, and so forth. Experience, even as simple as looking at a piece of architecture or even a blooming flower, ought to be active rather than passive. A full experience demands effort and thought in congruence with an open mind.
And this is not to mention an open heart, something I believe I have not had in many ways, to the detriment of past romances. Relationships have what I see as so many painful inevitabilities that I avoid investing myself in them meaningfully. I am going to try my absolute best to change this in the future. There is a sense in which I fear loving somebody romantically, most likely on account of my view of human nature when it comes to relationships that is as dim as it is well supported by direct experience. But I shall try nonetheless, as finding the rule's exception in this case requires one to blind oneself to the rule altogether.
Also, you can thank one Dr. Scott, a professor I had last semester who instilled into me the horrible habit of beginning many of my truth statements with the reserved-sounding phrase "There is a sense in which..."
Anyway - to experience with effort; this is how I try to do things when I'm out to catch sights and sounds. This, in my mind, is precisely the reason I've never grown tired of Victoria and all it has to offer; I go to the same parks, on the same hikes, to the same spots countless times over, and I never tire of them. I don't see this kind of thing as repetition, any more than reading a book is 'repetition' on account of turning similarly-sized and fonted pages in succession. As each page has something - in fact many things - new, so does a trail or ocean view or nearly any other sensory experience each time you visit it.
Nostalgia is a reversion to the already-experienced. I both love and fear nostalgic moments and the pleasure they offer; my love for them comes from their reliability, warmth, and comfort, as has a childhood stuffed animal or fuzzy blanket. My fear of them comes from my unending desire to push ahead to all things new, exhilarating, and unknown. They say we fear what we don't understand, but I feel on occasion that the opposite is true. I find myself looking into the unknown with excitement, reserving my fear for thoughts of a life consisting of reliving the past, sifting through albums and finding fulfillment in reflection rather than action.
And such are the words of a person still in his youth! I imagine if I ever read this entry decades from now as an old man, it may bring a memorable chuckle.
And this is not to mention an open heart, something I believe I have not had in many ways, to the detriment of past romances. Relationships have what I see as so many painful inevitabilities that I avoid investing myself in them meaningfully. I am going to try my absolute best to change this in the future. There is a sense in which I fear loving somebody romantically, most likely on account of my view of human nature when it comes to relationships that is as dim as it is well supported by direct experience. But I shall try nonetheless, as finding the rule's exception in this case requires one to blind oneself to the rule altogether.
Also, you can thank one Dr. Scott, a professor I had last semester who instilled into me the horrible habit of beginning many of my truth statements with the reserved-sounding phrase "There is a sense in which..."
Anyway - to experience with effort; this is how I try to do things when I'm out to catch sights and sounds. This, in my mind, is precisely the reason I've never grown tired of Victoria and all it has to offer; I go to the same parks, on the same hikes, to the same spots countless times over, and I never tire of them. I don't see this kind of thing as repetition, any more than reading a book is 'repetition' on account of turning similarly-sized and fonted pages in succession. As each page has something - in fact many things - new, so does a trail or ocean view or nearly any other sensory experience each time you visit it.
Nostalgia is a reversion to the already-experienced. I both love and fear nostalgic moments and the pleasure they offer; my love for them comes from their reliability, warmth, and comfort, as has a childhood stuffed animal or fuzzy blanket. My fear of them comes from my unending desire to push ahead to all things new, exhilarating, and unknown. They say we fear what we don't understand, but I feel on occasion that the opposite is true. I find myself looking into the unknown with excitement, reserving my fear for thoughts of a life consisting of reliving the past, sifting through albums and finding fulfillment in reflection rather than action.
And such are the words of a person still in his youth! I imagine if I ever read this entry decades from now as an old man, it may bring a memorable chuckle.
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