I have a memory that always sticks with me.
Not because it was memorable. Honestly, it was quite mundane.
And yet, in the moment, I was convinced that it was special; that I should hold onto it— and I always have.
I was walking back to class from a flute lesson in 5th grade.
I was almost back to my classroom when I stopped. I looked down among the dried autumn leaves at my feet. I began kicking the leaves around for my own pleasure when I was overcome by a dreamlike sense of awareness.
I felt outside of myself. As though I was seeing through time, seeing me now: 36 years old, sitting alone at a bar, contemplating my life. I knew this moment was special: and yet it was nothing at all.
I walked up a bricked ramp, and at its peak, I turned around.
In the distance before me, I saw the snow-tipped mountains of The Angeles National Forest. It felt as though I were perceiving something otherwordly.
What I saw instead was merely reality, experienced through a presence of mind.
Everything was still— the moment so tangible I could hold it in my hand. At that moment I built myself a safe haven, a meeting place. A place I would revisit often; for years to come.
Since then I have grown into the expected adult form: devoid of magic.
Though I have my experiences and contemplations that get me by. One of my favorites is a theory of Einstein’s.
Einstein believed that every moment in the universe’s history is alive all at once, in different places across spacetime.
Einstein did not believe in death, at least in its classic sense: That you are suddenly “gone” forever.
He believed that in this version of “Now”, someone may no longer be physically present, but they will always continue to exist, in eternity, in time.
I often find peace in the unknown.
What is consciousness? Where did the universe come from? Why am I gassy? Do we really exist for eternity within the bounds of time?
Something beautiful washes over me: A sense of smallness, of connection, and of found meaning in a world wilder than any science fiction. We live inside of magic every day. Maybe we time travel outside of ourselves at times and don’t even know it.
Maybe my 10-year-old self witnessed something: channeled something real. Maybe I experienced something only a child can feel. Not yet fettered by the restrictive dogma of modern life. A connection to something so innate and natural. A connection to reality, time, and myself— across space and time.
And I don’t really care if this perspective is perceived as false by many, because this is all really just an exercise: to feel the magic again.
I am channeling myself. I see her— Looking forward at me, from 1996.
And as my 5th-grade self looks forward in time, inside a reverie: The me of Now is actively looking back at her in kind.
Am I present still, in 5th grade, holding my flute case, looking forward, yearning for my future self to love me, to hold onto the magic?
People say time feels to slip between our fingers like sand: And yet, for just a moment is tangibly present.
I say, give yourself the space to feel the sand— To kick the leaves. Allow yourself the opportunities to transcend time and reality.
You are within magic, all around you. You are a time traveler: You are more powerful than you were ever taught to believe.
Listening to: