Even I don't always agree with my opinion


Pitch Black

Posted November 1, 2012 by Carter in Religion/Philosophy
My Mind
My mind is like a large, rambling, pitch black basement full of important items gathered over the years and placed there for safe keeping.
When I want to remember something I take a small flashlight, go down the creaky wooden stairs into the dark and the door closes behind me.
The absolute darkness that now surrounds me is breath-taking.
As often as not, at this point I forget why I came to the basement in the first place. That usually doesn’t bother me, I just poke around with the sliver of light from my tiny flashlight and get caught up looking at the objects I come across. As the narrow beam of light reveals a forgotten treasure I remember every detail about how I came to acquire the object, the people involved and the importance it held for me when I placed it in the basement. Often I will be overwhelmed by the emotions that caused me to keep it. Surprisingly, the emotions are not always good but I still hand on to the the object and the emotion. A bitter-sweet wave of pain or loss sometimes seems better than just removing the little treasure and having no sense of connection to what was a significant part of my life a long time ago. And then I move the light and the object and the intensity it created are gone. Pitch black.
I know the memories of the trip to BC in 1985 are in a small cardboard gift box at the back of a cupboard behind the stairs. I like to shine my light on the jack knife with the leather cord and a compass that I used when I hitchhiked between Banff and Jasper. Memories of the sun shining through the forest trees and coming across a family of deer in a clearing. They looked at me and kept on grazing, I was the intruder. I step away and it’s pitch black.
I move quickly along a book shelf with small trinkets that are illuminated one at a time as I walk by. Yes, a fishing trip in 1992. Ahh! there’s a couple of days at a fair in Buffalo. Actually there were three fairs in Buffalo but I put all the collectibles in one box marked Buffalo and I can’t tell which year which item belongs to anymore. There’s the first time I looked out from the CN tower. Then the moment I decided to quit my job at the tire factory. I come to the end of the shelf, Pitch Black.
Look, there’s something shiny in this corner. Yes, I loved this and it makes me feel good every time I come here and pick it up. Two months at my Grandmother’s home in Nova Scotia in 1968. My first lobster, my first real job at an A&W, my first real kiss and discovering fields of blueberries. But that’s not what I came down here for so I move on, Pitch Black.
The light from my flashlight grows dim and I’m feeling a little tired anyway so I go back up the stairs into the well-lit kitchen. The memories scatter in the light and as I adjust to the brightness and the noise of a radio my wife asks, “Did you find what you were looking for?”
I don’t answer, she is just being kind. But I am thinking, “I don’t know, but I had fun.”


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