Note: I am on my emergency vacation.
This is a piece I wrote a few months ago and never did anything with. Waiting for the right window, I guess. Maybe it’s today.
Sometimes I think there are wormholes in memory.
Back doors.
The other day I had a flash of déjà vu so intense, so disorienting that it tilted everything out of balance.
And in that imperceptible moment of in-between, something began pulling out bits of memory and reassembling them into present time.
Memories from all five senses flowing seamlessly together, replicating a certain place and a certain time exactly.
The situation.
Most mundane trigger ever.
I was bringing up laundry from the basement.
My brother and my gentleman friend were brewing beer in the kitchen.
The experience.
One minute I was walking up the stairs. The next I was back — completely — at my job at the homebrew store.
Fifteen years ago? Ten years ago? I’d worked there at a couple of different points, so I couldn’t even orient myself in time. All I know is I was back.
I was back.
But I don’t mean to say that it took me back. Or that it reminded me of there.
I was there. Then. Not partly here and partly there. Not partly now and partly then.
Only there. Only then.
Falling into memory.
It’s hard to say where memory begins and ends.
Something about the sensation of coming up that dark staircase into the heady aroma of hoppy alchemy.
Something about the angle of the climb. And the strains of music from radio soft in the background.
The flickering light on the dark basement stairs. The smells of malt and grains and hops. The weight and heft of the load in my hands. The flash of unexpected sunlight as I came through the door.
Until standing in the doorway, blinking in that sunlight, I stood confused. Temporarily paralyzed. I was in my kitchen but it made no sense. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
Everything was the same. And everything was completely different.
And that was when I realized that I’d actually stepped back into memory. And not just back into memory but into a very specific memory.
Because what I had been expecting to find in place of the kitchen was an entirely different day.
An old, faded day that no longer exists. A pretty day. Conjured up again by a precise and accidental melding of scent, sound and sensation. Exactly that. An old, faded day.
But what does memory know, really?
It was all right there. And at the same time, it was — it is — a little hazy and more than a bit dusty.
I’m rounding the last stairs and coming through the door. And G. is there. But why? To pick me up from work?
Looking a bit bashful — but again, why? — and holding something.
And there I am too, tired and achy and happy with flecks of crystal malt dust on my face, smelling of hops. Smiling.
He has something to tell me. Or show me. I can’t remember. Music. Someone begins to speak.
And then there I was in my kitchen again. Blinking. Taken completely aback by the complete now-ness of right now.
Returning.
Here I am. And most of the time I’m pretty sure it’s where I’m supposed to be.
So I start talking myself down, into the moment that is right now. The important one.
I say, very clearly: “I want to be here now. I’m ready to be here. Now. Present time. Here. I. Am.”
[Ed. Also I might have done some hardcore wacky energy protection things because I’m that way.]
And then I begin sorting everything out, as if I were a soap opera character with a complicated case of amnesia:
“My love, this is your kitchen.
This is Hoppy House.
It’s where you live.
That man in the skull-and-crossbones apron is your gentleman friend. You love everything about him.
You do not work in a homebrew store. You run a company. Your business partner is a duck.
And G. is not here. He’s married and has a sweet little boy and you are that sweet little boy’s far-away auntie person who sends gifts.
Everything is exactly as it should be. Everything you need is inside of you. You are safe and loved and you are right here. Right now. Here. Now.”
Returning again.
I like to trust (or imagine that one day I will be able to trust) that every memory has purpose.
That it heals something. Releases something. Reminds you of some quality or experience that is important or necessary in that moment. Sometimes it even tells you what you are tripping over. Or what you used to be tripping over.
It returns you to yourself.
And at the same time, memory can take you out of yourself and away from yourself. It can lead you into walled gardens where the only thing that grows is hurt and regret.
Sometimes returning from the memory is as important as the memory.
I don’t have anything smart to add to this. I’m just thinking about memories. And about doors. And about different ways to return things.
Or to return to things.
Or to return to myself through things. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.
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Thanks for sharing that. It is so vivid. And I knew the more I learn about your brother the more I like him. Bakes bread AND brews beer?!
JoVEs last blog post..From Conference Presentation to Journal Article
Yeah. That can be creepy, can’t it?
Recently, I had a whole bunch of memories come back. Tons of them. Like 20 years of them. And it was kind of scary.
I don’t have answers to this one either. But I’m glad you wrote about it. At least we can all know we’re not the only ones who experience this, huh?
All the best!
deb
Deb Owens last blog post..break on through to the other side
Whoa, trippy. What an amazing, intense experience.
I have had things like this happen since starting dance of shiva. Nothing as intense, but sometimes random memories will flood into my brain. Often they have come for a reason, which is super-cool. Other times I can’t figure it out but I’m sure there’s something going on in that amorphous grey matter up top 😉
I hope you are having a most excellent emergency vacation! Love to you ~E.
Eileens last blog post..The new drug
I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such a thing, at least not that strongly. Your beautiful writing made me realise how unsettling it can be. I have no clue why, but I kind of have the feeling that this new understanding will be useful or helpful in some way some day, so I appreciate that you shared this story. Thank you, Havi.
Josianes last blog post..Exposing some flesh
As i see it, Deja Vus are not wormholes in the memories but the memories are creating time leaps to the past, or perhaps back to the future… (The latter is harder to analyze).
I have been trying to keep some memories away, memories of a specific day I don’t want to ever remember. I even tried to plant a different memory that never were, instead of the real horrible one (as a journaling prompt in my blog a while back).
It didn’t help.
It just triggered the real memory and it came up and brought me back there and then – hands shaking, tears pushing against my lids and streaming down, the awful knot in the back of throat and inside my bowels – is it happening again?
Cruel are my memories.
Avitals last blog post..Journaling Prompt – The Beauty of the Dialog
Dearest Havi,
This is lovely. YOU are lovely. I so appreciate being able to participate in your inner world through this online medium. And yes, those wormholes are so potent and mysterious and healing in ways that we can’t even begin to comprehend.
Love you madly,
Chris
chris zydels last blog post..Who Is YOUR Creative Alter Ego?
Does it make me a nerd, if I read this and think:
“Deja Vu? Something’s been changed in the Matrix!”
But seriously, I get a lot of deja vus. Maybe not as detailed or intense, but that feeling like I’ve done this before.
I guess it is some form of association with specific senses as you say.
Or maybe it’s because we’re just reliving our lives on an endless loop and the deja vu is caused by spots where our minds weren’t wiped completely?
Now I’ve gone and hurt my brain. 🙂
Andys last blog post..New Learning
Havi my love, thank you for this beautiful post, so rich in wisdom, and so passionately eloquent.
” . . . every memory has purpose. . . It returns you to yourself.” Yes.
Love, Hiro
Hiro Bogas last blog post..When I grow up I want to be me . . .
I recently had a dream that triggered a flood of painful memories. It’s 2 weeks later, and it’s still hard to shake them. I’m realizing (thanks to therapy today) that I need to *let those memories go* and be appreciative of what they were remind me of.
Which is that the present is so good for me right now. I’m stronger, I have made better choices. And I am safe in who I am now. I’m safe with me.
I’ve had moments like that. They’re so strange. Memory is odd, that’s for sure!
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How I love the expression “wormholes in memory”! I, too, have had those stunning and totally disorienting experiences where the there and here get totally transposed in a flash of exquisite time magic. Curiously, the times this has happened, I’ve also been climbing up stairs. I’ve always thought there was a lovely little metaphor there about bringing something up from the foundation of who I am.
Deborah Webers last blog post..Donkeys & Aprons & Pies Oh My!
Hello Havi:
I stumbled upon your blog and have come back many times. We seem to think the same a lot. That’s scary. On the same day you published your déjà vu post I wrote an article on time warps and associated triggers – The Jun2009 article at goldenagebaseballcards.com.
You and your fans might get a kick out of it. Keep up the good work. You’re helping a lot of people.
The Hawaiian life philosophy — ho’oponopono — instructs that there are two ways to live: (1) in memory; or (2) in inspiration. From my experience, living in memory (or even experiencing memory, oftentimes) is pretty painful, whereas living in inspiration almost always ROCKS. (I’d bet you can relate.)
I think the important thing to remember is that it’s a choice. You have ultimate control of your experience, so you have to take 100% responsibility for it (which is another important ho’oponopono principle, btw).
Life is Good. Be Well.
I get that “totally-there-not-here” feeling sometimes if I’m in my little pick-up bringing home a hot pizza in a cardboard box (very unique aroma). And where do I go? Back 25 years when I was a Domino’s pizza delivery boy in college. It’s weird, and disorienting, but oddly I’ve never found it scary enough to need to re-assure myself of my proper place in the space-time continuum.
If Andy is a nerd for thinking of the Matrix, then I am too because it reminded of the StarTrek TNG episode where Will Wheaton’s ( Will oddly enough ) figures out – with help of some character called the Traveler – he can make warp bubbles and travel through space time with just his mind.
Also, your advice to just ‘be here now’ is probably good advice to keep in mind whether we are having severe de ja vu or not. 🙂