touch – Observations and Misunderstandings

Humour me, I’m going to be self-indulgent. I’ve been having some weird sensations recently. It has been a long time since I’ve gone this long without travelling to another country. Even travelling within one place. The lockdown has made me change habits. You can’t run off somewhere when you fancy a change if the whole world is on lockdown. Sitting on a jungle beach in Costa Rica, diving in the Andaman Islands or maybe with a mate of mine in Brazil. Just sailing somewhere warm like Fiji or the icy cold north has also entered my little realm of fantasy recently. But I’m also in a weird way happy not to be running off. As I said habits have changed and I see possibilities with this version of normality I have created. It needs to evolve and it’ll change immeasurably before I make it in my own image but I suspect all of those things will still happen at some point before and after I reach this point. I’m really happy with this too. These sensations though have nothing to do with future desires or ways of life. These are feelings from the past.

For much time I have forgotten my adventures, determined not to be that guy who just lives on his them, repeating them to someone until they get bored and you’re forced to move on. This forgetting though has also been because I have been creating new ones and haven’t needed to dwell on things that have happened. Now though without this ability to move on and find something new to experience, I am stuck experiencing a new way which I’ve allowed forced upon me. I different kind of forward. I have found myself over these last few months remembering past events or people and this began out in a sad way as in a way I wished I could go back to these moments. This is entirely natural. This has evolved though as now I have found myself experiencing these moments and seeing them through eyes that are happy to have had them. Instead of desiring their return I have been appreciating them, but more importantly in the strangest way experiencing parts of them once more.

It’s these sensations. This is the important part, the rest is a different special. To imagine yourself back in the moment and experiencing the forest air on the nostril, the sea water on the hot skin, the rain on the face. The emotion of seeing someone or experiencing a place that leaves you speechless. Even the sounds and visuals that I felt have been coming back to me. It’s hard to explain but it’s as if I’m experiencing memories with an intensity that touches on the actual moment as it happened, not just a thought of something that runs through my mind as a movie screen. I’ll go with it because it’s fascinating and I know it too won’t last forever. It’s all just about trying to understand. That’s all we can do. Be the cabra.

There is something romantic about books. The smell of a new one. The smell of an old one. The clean, crisp cover of a new one. The worn, well read cover of an old one. The aesthetics of a well designed cover. The feel of a well made specially designed book. Browsing in a bookshop with an idea of the type of book you may like to buy, finding one by an author you know and getting caught up in the excitement that follows. Going off in a different direction and finding a completely random book on a topic you hadn’t previously thought may be interesting but somehow in this form all of a sudden became desirable. Why not buy them both. End up buying two more on top of that. The physical pleasure of holding a book as you read it as opposed to one of these electronic readers. While life may be more technological these days in many beneficial ways, nothing will be able to replace the simple pleasure of holding and reading from a book. Sitting in a cafe reading a book as you drink your coffee. Sitting in a cafe looking cool as you pretend to read your book. One thing in the same situation, appearing to all the world to be playing out the same way but completely different. Books even help people with our most base desires. Books are amazing.

There is one thing about owning books too and that is the ability to fill a book shelf of all your proudest ones. There is something incredibly appealing about this but I suspect there is a part of us driven by the same instinct that allows us to feel credible sitting in a cafe and not really reading as much as we like to imagine we are or were going to. The danger with books is that they become another aesthetic possession. There are plenty of really cool people out there with great selections of books positioned on very prominent shelves. I know I haven’t read all the books I own. Does the book become more that just a physical copy of a series of words formed in an interesting manner? Well yes is the short answer. You can’t have all the romanticism of the first paragraph without trying to impress people with your cool book collection. Be honest, only your very best make the public shelf.

Currently I’m going though what I can only describe as readers block. Like I said I love books, but what I didn’t say was that I love reading and this is an important distinction to make. There are times I love reading but right now I’m struggling. The desire is there but I keep on allowing myself the distraction of something else. Readers block has ahold of me. But I still love books and even if I am continuing to struggle I know this will pass. In the meantime I bought four books today when scouring the charity shops, great ones too, I’m really pleased with the finds. I will put them next to the ten books I bought two months ago, last time a went to the charity shops. Maybe I’ll actually read some of these ones this time and not just position them strategically around my flat for maximum impressiveness. I hope so because I miss reading. We have so much to learn and it’s all out there if we take the time. It may just be another part of this journey into discipline I seem to have found myself on but good things don’t always come easily to us even when we enjoy and benefit from them. I promise you there is a book review coming one day, let’s hope it opens some proverbial floodgate of sorts

Tag: touch

Memories & Living With La Cabra Negra

Lovely Books