Journey to the Past

Tonight I feel like a good old style Raskolnikovian self-analysis would be in order. So prepare yourself for a series of vague thoughts.

Despite my relatively young age I have a certain tendency towards nostalgia. I've had it as long as I can remember. This doesn't mean that I couldn't head towards the future as any open-minded or dynamic young person but I suppose that the whole concept of constantly glancing back to the past for some answers or for certainty of any kind makes me more serious, incredulous and of course, at times, clearly more absent-minded than I would otherwise be. Some of the original reasons for this quality of mine I can doubtlessly detect. And as always (you may correct me if I'm wrong!) in the case of human mind all of this derives from the experiences one has had earlier in life. Which brings us, as if in a vicious circle, back to the original dilemma of mine: a) the concept of time and b) placing yourself in it in order to get certainty.

Since I bought a one-way ticket to Dublin on the 5th of September in 2007 I feel as though I've been on a constant mission of finding certainty. My roaming once brought me also to the city of Tver' (seen in the picture below) where I spent many nights on Volga riverbank finding out constantly something new about Russia, myself, the people around me and perhaps about life itself.

Last Saturday I made a day trip with some of my friends and colleagues to Tver' only to realise that the town hadn't changed at all whereas I obviously had. I felt comfortable enough walking on the streets where I still knew every stone and pavement. All the alleys and yards were familiar and reminded me of the time I had spent there. I could quite clearly remember all the sounds, feelings, thoughts and visions I had then but still it wasn't the same as it used to be. Everything I saw was as though on the other side of a transparent membrane. Whole Tver' was there welcoming me but I couldn't cross the wall to embrace the town as I used to. This made me feel nostalgic.

 

But let's move back to the concept of time and into that question about certainty I brought up. One August night in 2009, just after I had returned from Tver' back to Finland, in due course of a very bitter night I realised that there was nothing certain in life. Nothing whatsoever. None, never was and that it would never get any better. Just in order to brake this realisation of mine into basics I give you a quote from Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The quote is about two fictional characters of which one seems to have some amount of importance for people who are looking for certainty. These two figures are Babel fish and God:

Now it [the existence of Babel fish] is such a bizarrely improbable coincidence that anything so mindbogglingly useful could have evolved purely by chance that some thinkers have chosen to see it as a final and clinching proof of the non-existence of God.

The argument goes something like this: "I refuse to prove that I exist," says God, "for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing."

"But," says Man, "the Babel fish is a dead giveaway isn't it? It could not have evolved by chance. It proves that you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED."

"Oh dear," says God, "I hadn't thought of that," and promptly disappears in a puff of logic.

"Oh, that was easy," says Man, and for an encore goes on to prove that black is white and gets himself killed on the next zebra crossing.

Sorry for the deviation. Now, soon after I came to the aforementioned conclusion I realised that some type of even a fragile or fake certainty is vital for any person who wishes to live a wholesome life with any meaning within it. Since then I have been in search for the tools with which I could build that mirage in the desert. That delicate feeling of certainty. By now I've learned few ways of building it up but I still lack many of the tools I need for this project. This makes me quite blue every now and then.

But let's continue with our vicious circle of time. Now follows the question or rather the concept of time. Time. Where is it? Or rather when is it? If I may be bold and frank about this I'd say that there is no time. It's a man made invention! There are no numbers in the sky. Believe me! I've looked. So there's no time. Just like there's no God. Simply because both of them are made up by man.

Those of you who know me well enough might know that I'm also fascinated by the way we, that is to say people, divide time into portions that are easy enough for us to handle. Best example of this, I suppose, is year. We celebrate New Year in order to part with the old year and to welcome the new one in. This is enough for me to like New Year the best of all the celebrations in the year.

And speaking of celebrations there's one at the door: The Midsummer Eve, Иван-Купала or Juhannus. As a Finn I like to celebrate it no matter where I am. This time I'm in Russia which means that I won't necessary get bonfires, sauna or skinny dipping, but hey! - I'm gonna try. And the place where I'm going to try this is Yaroslavl'. Just for the record Yaroslavl' is the same place where the idea of that one-way ticket to Dublin first accored to me on a summer night in July almost five years ago (as seen below):

I've been to Yarslavl' once since that first time in 2006 due to the fact that I have some (bit distant but dear!) relatives living there. But this time I feel as though the vicious circle might be closing in. Five years of an Odyssey that is bound to continue, perhaps until Doom's Day, should have at least an intermission. And I hope that this Midsummer break I'll have from tomorrow until next Tuesday could be that break I'm in need of. Who knows - it might even offer me some long-awaited answers. Or maybe I'm just dreaming once more..

Yours as a child in time,

Stefan

PS. Speaking of the devil here's a song for you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfAWReBmxEs