Ars Memorandi Mori

This week, we were encouraged to find a picture of ourselves when we were young and then write a short biography based on that photo. the one I chose is to the left. It's a picture of myself when I was around four or five with my two cousins, Sarah and Ben. to me, this is a strange photo. I cannot remember much of anything from when I was this age, so I can vaguely disconnected from the child in the image. I'm smiling, so I must be happy about something, but I no longer know what.

It was an interesting practice; taking an image from my past and reflecting on the younger person I used to be. So much has been lost since then, with what seems to be little gain. I may have greater intelligence, awareness, and height, but if these things, at the expense of unmitigated and innocent joy, then I am envious of the child I no longer am. Here, in this picture, I am surrounded by those who love me, and who will not judge me, and who will not reject me. I fear almost nothing, and have little to do with the awareness of God. He responsibility that such knowledge entails has taken its toll, and in most respects, I have not even reached the midpoint of my life.

The child is gone, yet he is ever here. I cannot expect to ever become fully aware or completely void of innocence. I have seen much, experienced greater things, and have been to many distant places where this child could not have imagined he would go. Yet even imagination itself has dulled through the years, and the less exciting, all too cold reality set limits on my once rampant thoughts. Where shall I be in another 20 years? What beliefs will I grow into? Who will be beside me then? Will I ever smiled that way again? Even now, there are more questions than answers, and I find myself more unsatisfied with the silence then I was back then.