Long time ago I wrote a chapter of this kind. There is a huge change happenning to take over my life and it took a lot of my attention recently. As everybody else, I am affraid of the huge change. Even though I know that “the fear is a liar”, it does not help as I imagined for it to be. The hardest thing is to begin — but as the process starts to reveal itself the way it actually is, many of us realize that a lot of our concerns were in vain. Above all, that huge change brings me back to thinking about the transience of time. These thoughts keep coming into my mind: the past, the transcience of moments, their inconsistency; being only a passenger in this world.
There is one special constitution that occupies me here: “the last time”. The majority of time I am simply passing the moments, as their uniqueness does not deserve more. To live in the present moment seems to be quite a tough assignment: one will usually think that there will be the next time, as the future is secured. People tend to look at the new things with the old eyes, the eyes of the past. I am one of them — that makes me nostalgic. Soon, all the moments I live here will reach that special constitution I speak about: “the last time”.
More than two years ago I bought a vintage armchair that played quite a role in my everyday life. Before going to the work or coming back from it, I would sit there and had my cup of tea or a coffee. I would sit there and read a book. I would sit there and thought about my future plans. It was a thing that got a meaning. When my creative projects started to burst, I had to remove it from my room to provide the space for their realization. Not so long ago there was somebody who was interested into buying it — so it was sold. The same evening I caught myself into thinking about something particular: I was not aware that the last time I was sitting over there, having my rest, was actually the very last time I ever did so. “If I could back into those moments, I would appreciate them better” — many times I thought.
My path has always been the path of an artist. An artist can revive the past moments by feeling them through the piece of art. Through the art the past is seen. The plain moments, that would have been easily forgotten, come to life when I start reading one of the old poems. A feeling once felt becomes significant, relevant for the future moment. Through the art the past becomes more beautiful — because it is beautifully formed. I am choosing the path of an artist.
All about my life now will go through the same stage: I will leave the old to embrace the new. I will leave the secured for the unpredictable. I will leave the safe path for the uknown. At least, for now, I know it will be “the last time” — so I will care for it better.