Sunday, September 17, 2006

I remember. But there is no past.


Why the anguish when hearing of past romantic episodes - however insignificant - of those with whom one is intimate? There appears to occur an overlooking of the time that separates prior adventures from the present circumstance. What is the nature of this overlooking?

When I drink something, I can be enveloped in either a sort of joy, or in a reminiscing sadness. This sadness is precisely an awareness of the ('objective') time which separates me from better moments. But if, on the contrary, I am transformed into a joyous state, two distinct transportations take place. There is a kind of 'dissolution of the subject' whereby the pleasure - the 'good times' - of a stranger can be my pleasure too. There is also an elimination of temporal gaps, such that past pleasures can bring me present enjoyment.
These two effects are very different. When a memory is recalled, it is 'made present' again (which of course leaves sad reminiscing unexplained, but I shall pass over this difficulty). It seems clear, given a certain conception of memory, that the overlooking of temporal distance can be understood fairly simply. We are, to a certain extent, our past. Our past is made present at every moment. Our actions express the past; our recollections are made present in their very recollection.

So to return to our original question - why is this overlooking problematic and painful? Perhaps we are seeking the source of the anguish in the wrong place; perhaps it is not the temporal aspect of the romantic event, but the spatial aspect (ie, that it doesn't involve me) which troubles. I find it quite fascinating that in certain moods I can exult in the mere appearance on earth of moments of reciprocal pleasure, even if they are far removed from my situation. This I cannot explain. But I think we can correlate this attitude, and its opposite - the wish to deny the pleasure of others - with what can broadly be described as active and reactive forces.

It is becoming aware of the independence of the other which stimulates the reactive forces (in our case). Recognising that one is vulnerable in the face of the other, that one is subject to the - possibly - whimsical fancies of another person, causes an agitation of the reactive forces, since from this recognition follows a denial of the false strength which is the pinnacle of reactivity.

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