Pedestrians of Our Own Lives

đź’¬ Highlights:

  • There seems to be an interesting connection between forming our first memories and forgetting each day as an adult.
  • As we grow up, we lose our wonderment towards everyday life.
  • Avoid deriving a sense of purpose from life’s big accomplishments.

Minor trigger advisory: this piece makes a few sporadic references to faith. As we’ve made clear in the past, we have no desire to push those on other people.

“Pedestrians of Our Own Lives”

Volume 2, Number 2

Back in school, I remember having a friend who insisted that he could remember being born. He was the competitive sort, especially when it came to one-upping others in experiences and smarts, so despite my pension for giving people the benefit of the doubt, I am still skeptical. He is not the only one, though; a subset of the human population also believes they possess memories prior to birth. Sentience, without so much as glimpse beyond the barrier of protection that is the womb? That’s hard for me to believe. The passage of time, that sudden stream of memories flooding our brain, and our very own purpose — our first great awakening — it all comes together in a funny way I cannot fully comprehend.

Continue reading “Pedestrians of Our Own Lives”

How an Optimist Learns to Love the Rain

Recommended listening:

Fall (Raven’s Descent) | Stardew Valley Soundtrack

This post is best read along to this amazing fall track, which I feel best encapsulates the optimistic longing expressed within.

“The spirits are restless,” I always say when Nikki plays the retro-style popular farming simulator Stardew Valley. It’s fascinating, it almost never rains when I boot up the game on my profile. Much further along in the game myself, what I wouldn’t give for a day of reprieve from watering the rows and rows of crops that comprise Solitude Farm.

But for her it rains almost every single day — pixelated water of varying intensity brushing over the town and countryside. Accompanying the torrents are the occasional haunting sounds delivered with just enough infrequency to snap you out of your trance-like state.

Often, I find myself waking to the echo. What is that sound? My vivid imagination often runs wild with possibilities, unwilling to break the spell by consulting an internet so out of place in the Valley. Is it the wind? Thunder? Lightning striking a distant tree? Restless spirits?

It’s impossible to know, but there is one thing I do know — each time it happens, it conveys a sense of longing hopefulness. A restlessness for something better. Continue reading “How an Optimist Learns to Love the Rain”