I loved this, Brigitte. I have been fascinated with time all my life. I remember as a child marking a moment in our backyard one summer with my brother. I recall the way the sun felt on my hair, the cool grass on my knees, the wind blowing on my legs... and our magnifiers in hand as we tried to set a blade of grass on fire. And then he says this thing that blew my mind. "If we think really hard about this moment, and later think about it again, we would eventually remember it forever."
I have. I've yet to ask him if he remembers.
I guess you could say I am a fan of time. Or, more accurately, I am a fan of the human experience of time. It is such a mysterious force.
Your brother said this in that moment!? WOW!! It reminds me the way Virginia Woolf described some of her own specific memories and that she called "moments of being."
"Can I do magic?" you ask. I believe you have answered the question affirmatively with the organic spells you have cast here in the form of memory, line, phrase, philosophy and the poetic disappearance of borders between past and present. Proust's thoughts on this matter are deeply resonant for me and cause for more investigation into my own magical beliefs about the role of memory, which feels to be far far more than artifacts of neural activity.
I love this mutual resonance so much, in this continuous chain from Proust to his readers like me and now to you, and then back to me again. This kind of magic is fun and refreshing, and we can all do it! Thank you so much, Rick ✨
The relationship between time and identity is one that fascinates and sometimes troubles me. Are we the same person we were last year? That seems reasonable. But the further I follow the thread back, into youth and childhood, the more surreal it feels. Now that I'm a parent, it's even more disorienting in a sense because I am _seeing_ my daugher (20 months old) change right before my eyes. I swear there've been mornings when I've walked into her room and it felt like the baby I'd kissed goodnight had been swapped overnight with a slightly older child. I am continually saying goodbye to her and meeting her for the first time.
This essay was beautiful and gave me a lot to think about!
Thank you so much, Brenna. I’ve been thinking about your comment about your daughter, and trust me, I can relate (well, my daughter is already seventeen now). It’s all such a surreal, interesting and never-ending search and observation — a bit like Proust’s epic search…!?
I think it’s both true: we morph into different versions of self yet there is some kind of unique field or structure (or frequency?) of resonance we each possess about how we get struck by the world. And that is recoverable and observable, to a certain extent.
What a wonderful essay. Thank you for this post. It came at just the right time, when I could really use the distraction and a trip into my childhood. Even though I don’t know this French author, I recognize these memories—little moments that play out like a movie before my inner eye.
Often, I experience this when I listen to a certain song or a piece of classical music that unintentionally plunges me into the past. Priceless moments ❤️
Thank you for this deep insight into your soul, which seems to be very similar to mine ❤️
I thank you so much, Annette. And knowing that these plunges into your memories may touch a few of the same fragments as mine, dear cousin, makes your comment extra special for me of course 💗
Brigitte, You've outdone yourself! I marveled at these details: "the "smoky smell of birch wood", and the "cooler air pooling on the floor". And then capturing the experience of a child - "being lower to the ground, feeling the sharp gravel on naked feet". LOVE it!
There's just so much goodness in this piece. It's an astonishing piece of writing.
Brigitte! Thank you so much for this, and thanks to our beloved Proust! I love how you have danced with him in this piece! We do arrive in this life as small people, feeling ourselves in the current of time, but also sensing the ocean of time in which we are free to navigate! So clearly I remember my excitement standing beside the willow tree in our front yard, the first to put out leaves in the Spring, and realizing that while the clock and the seasons roll along, I only live in ONE moment, this moment. Every other moment is in my imagination, five minute from now, five minutes ago, any time. Remembering the willow in full leaf when I saw it for the first time, and imagining it bare next winter, all happen in my inner territory, where I am free to explore. I wondered how people could tell the difference between a memory and an imagined memory. But people seemed reluctant to have conversations about the nature of time and inner experience. I decided, over time, that it is better to trust what arises in memory and imagination than to limit and judge what arises, knowing that any and all of my experience has value to me. "Can I do magic?" Absolutely; you have shown us how, gathering the strands of your experience and savoring them with us.
What a MAGICAL memory you’ve been tapping into and sharing with me/us here. "Your” willow tree will remain accessible to you as some kind of portal into this sense of time and imagination.
You say: “I wondered how people could tell the difference between a memory and an imagined memory" and how you know that "any and all of my experience has value to me.” Wow, thank you for this, Alden! This feels like a special recognition between us (and other readers) of this human dance with time, memory and imagination we can all take part in.
Birgitte, I LOVE this essay, love how you spun truly timeless magic from the writing you brought to Jeannine’s doorstep & which we all enjoyed for its precise memories: the gravel, especially, and its feel. I remember that from you reading it aloud to us in workshop. You make me want to read Proust again. Such eloquence and feeling and memory he inspired in you!
Brigitte, I absolutely loved this piece. The idea of time as something fluid rather than strictly linear—like the pages of a book that can be pressed together so two distant moments suddenly touch—was such a beautiful way to frame the whole essay. It captured something I think many of us have felt but rarely articulate so clearly.
And your childhood scenes were so vivid and carefully chosen. Lines like “I kneel down and see the dark stones’ mysterious shimmer in the golden sun” and the image of the priest’s enormous black shoes appearing beneath his swaying robe pulled me right into that moment. They created such a strong sensory experience that it felt less like reading about a memory and more like briefly stepping inside it.
I also loved how you connected your own experience back to Proust’s idea of “time regained.” The essay itself almost functions like a Madeleine moment for the reader, reminding us how much of our past is still alive within us, waiting for the right scent or light or texture to call it back.
Such a thoughtful and evocative piece. I’m really glad you shared it. Well done!
Brigitte... so much juiciness here. Your writing as others have mentioned is so rich with visuals and nuance. I felt like I was immersed in your world. No separation between me here and being you at five.
The whole topic of time and memory is indeed the world of magic. As I read, my own memories jumped into view. One thing that struck me was how I often would take memory photographs in my mind of some fleeting moment in time. I was aware while I took the mind-snapshot that I would remember it into the future. My first "love" was photography.
And I want to thank you for sharing Proust with me. This definitely makes me want to read his work. It's escaped me so far.
I like how you are consciously taking “memory photographs”. I like this wording, Linda.
How beautiful it is to express something personal from my world that can touch you in your world ✨
Reading Proust is a quite the project, but well worth it I think, especially if you take it in strides over a longer arc of time (a good introduction can also be secondary sources, for example Alan de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life).
love... love... love.... this. It's pure poetry. Thank you for giving me the permission to have a Proustian moment/s with the pureness of memory that gives us all an invitation to explore our own childhoods with this read. Beauty in poetic motion.
Superb!!! I was transported back to your home and childhood memories- I can smell the freshness and warmth of our summers and see the fiery red of the wild poppies in the fields nearby. - I close my eyes, breathe deeply and I'm in summer lying in the grass!! So well-done.
I loved this, Brigitte. I have been fascinated with time all my life. I remember as a child marking a moment in our backyard one summer with my brother. I recall the way the sun felt on my hair, the cool grass on my knees, the wind blowing on my legs... and our magnifiers in hand as we tried to set a blade of grass on fire. And then he says this thing that blew my mind. "If we think really hard about this moment, and later think about it again, we would eventually remember it forever."
I have. I've yet to ask him if he remembers.
I guess you could say I am a fan of time. Or, more accurately, I am a fan of the human experience of time. It is such a mysterious force.
Thank you for sharing.
Your brother said this in that moment!? WOW!! It reminds me the way Virginia Woolf described some of her own specific memories and that she called "moments of being."
I am also a fan and fearer of time :)
Thank you for reading this piece, Elizabeth.
You haven’t asked him yet?!?!?
That’s a question I need an answer to as well :)
I'm almost afraid that if I ask he will tell me I made it up. Or worse, that he doesn't remember!! That would be just terrible.
Keep the dream alive!
"Can I do magic?" you ask. I believe you have answered the question affirmatively with the organic spells you have cast here in the form of memory, line, phrase, philosophy and the poetic disappearance of borders between past and present. Proust's thoughts on this matter are deeply resonant for me and cause for more investigation into my own magical beliefs about the role of memory, which feels to be far far more than artifacts of neural activity.
I love this mutual resonance so much, in this continuous chain from Proust to his readers like me and now to you, and then back to me again. This kind of magic is fun and refreshing, and we can all do it! Thank you so much, Rick ✨
Yes! We ALL can do it! (You should write a book about this!! : ) )
The relationship between time and identity is one that fascinates and sometimes troubles me. Are we the same person we were last year? That seems reasonable. But the further I follow the thread back, into youth and childhood, the more surreal it feels. Now that I'm a parent, it's even more disorienting in a sense because I am _seeing_ my daugher (20 months old) change right before my eyes. I swear there've been mornings when I've walked into her room and it felt like the baby I'd kissed goodnight had been swapped overnight with a slightly older child. I am continually saying goodbye to her and meeting her for the first time.
This essay was beautiful and gave me a lot to think about!
Thank you so much, Brenna. I’ve been thinking about your comment about your daughter, and trust me, I can relate (well, my daughter is already seventeen now). It’s all such a surreal, interesting and never-ending search and observation — a bit like Proust’s epic search…!?
I think it’s both true: we morph into different versions of self yet there is some kind of unique field or structure (or frequency?) of resonance we each possess about how we get struck by the world. And that is recoverable and observable, to a certain extent.
That is what I think (hope), too!
What a wonderful essay. Thank you for this post. It came at just the right time, when I could really use the distraction and a trip into my childhood. Even though I don’t know this French author, I recognize these memories—little moments that play out like a movie before my inner eye.
Often, I experience this when I listen to a certain song or a piece of classical music that unintentionally plunges me into the past. Priceless moments ❤️
Thank you for this deep insight into your soul, which seems to be very similar to mine ❤️
I thank you so much, Annette. And knowing that these plunges into your memories may touch a few of the same fragments as mine, dear cousin, makes your comment extra special for me of course 💗
Brigitte, You've outdone yourself! I marveled at these details: "the "smoky smell of birch wood", and the "cooler air pooling on the floor". And then capturing the experience of a child - "being lower to the ground, feeling the sharp gravel on naked feet". LOVE it!
There's just so much goodness in this piece. It's an astonishing piece of writing.
James, I feel honored that you went on this time travel with me! 🪷
Brigitte! Thank you so much for this, and thanks to our beloved Proust! I love how you have danced with him in this piece! We do arrive in this life as small people, feeling ourselves in the current of time, but also sensing the ocean of time in which we are free to navigate! So clearly I remember my excitement standing beside the willow tree in our front yard, the first to put out leaves in the Spring, and realizing that while the clock and the seasons roll along, I only live in ONE moment, this moment. Every other moment is in my imagination, five minute from now, five minutes ago, any time. Remembering the willow in full leaf when I saw it for the first time, and imagining it bare next winter, all happen in my inner territory, where I am free to explore. I wondered how people could tell the difference between a memory and an imagined memory. But people seemed reluctant to have conversations about the nature of time and inner experience. I decided, over time, that it is better to trust what arises in memory and imagination than to limit and judge what arises, knowing that any and all of my experience has value to me. "Can I do magic?" Absolutely; you have shown us how, gathering the strands of your experience and savoring them with us.
What a MAGICAL memory you’ve been tapping into and sharing with me/us here. "Your” willow tree will remain accessible to you as some kind of portal into this sense of time and imagination.
You say: “I wondered how people could tell the difference between a memory and an imagined memory" and how you know that "any and all of my experience has value to me.” Wow, thank you for this, Alden! This feels like a special recognition between us (and other readers) of this human dance with time, memory and imagination we can all take part in.
Birgitte, I LOVE this essay, love how you spun truly timeless magic from the writing you brought to Jeannine’s doorstep & which we all enjoyed for its precise memories: the gravel, especially, and its feel. I remember that from you reading it aloud to us in workshop. You make me want to read Proust again. Such eloquence and feeling and memory he inspired in you!
Oh Amy, this means so much to me.
That you listened to parts of it back then and are reading this essay now feels especially meaningful 💗
Brigitte, I absolutely loved this piece. The idea of time as something fluid rather than strictly linear—like the pages of a book that can be pressed together so two distant moments suddenly touch—was such a beautiful way to frame the whole essay. It captured something I think many of us have felt but rarely articulate so clearly.
And your childhood scenes were so vivid and carefully chosen. Lines like “I kneel down and see the dark stones’ mysterious shimmer in the golden sun” and the image of the priest’s enormous black shoes appearing beneath his swaying robe pulled me right into that moment. They created such a strong sensory experience that it felt less like reading about a memory and more like briefly stepping inside it.
I also loved how you connected your own experience back to Proust’s idea of “time regained.” The essay itself almost functions like a Madeleine moment for the reader, reminding us how much of our past is still alive within us, waiting for the right scent or light or texture to call it back.
Such a thoughtful and evocative piece. I’m really glad you shared it. Well done!
Thank you so much, Rachel! To think that Proust’s madeleine moment could inspire mine and then spark yours, or another reader’s, is pretty cool :) 💖
Brigitte... so much juiciness here. Your writing as others have mentioned is so rich with visuals and nuance. I felt like I was immersed in your world. No separation between me here and being you at five.
The whole topic of time and memory is indeed the world of magic. As I read, my own memories jumped into view. One thing that struck me was how I often would take memory photographs in my mind of some fleeting moment in time. I was aware while I took the mind-snapshot that I would remember it into the future. My first "love" was photography.
And I want to thank you for sharing Proust with me. This definitely makes me want to read his work. It's escaped me so far.
I like how you are consciously taking “memory photographs”. I like this wording, Linda.
How beautiful it is to express something personal from my world that can touch you in your world ✨
Reading Proust is a quite the project, but well worth it I think, especially if you take it in strides over a longer arc of time (a good introduction can also be secondary sources, for example Alan de Botton’s How Proust Can Change Your Life).
love... love... love.... this. It's pure poetry. Thank you for giving me the permission to have a Proustian moment/s with the pureness of memory that gives us all an invitation to explore our own childhoods with this read. Beauty in poetic motion.
❤️ 🙏 ❤️
Wonderful! And thank you so much for the mention.
Thank YOU, Deborah! I liked your essay and how you distilled this feeling 💎
Superb!!! I was transported back to your home and childhood memories- I can smell the freshness and warmth of our summers and see the fiery red of the wild poppies in the fields nearby. - I close my eyes, breathe deeply and I'm in summer lying in the grass!! So well-done.