Open to Interpretation
As this image makes clear, there is a striking poetic beauty to the past.
Something absolutely felt. Like an echo.
The past seems to contain time—however we perceive it.
It just sits there, of course, quiet and still. But apparently very alive.
When in the course of human events there is memory.
That past-tense sense of life, of aliveness, in the joy and sadness. In between them.
And let us not forget: Remembering well, it is said, is the better part of any wisdom going forward.
Here is hope. An ancient path beyond wishful thinking.
But as this image also makes clear, the past has an annoying tendency to get stuck.
Thus the time-honored phrase: "Stuck in time."
Like a bad habit. Over and over. Again and again.
It has this sort of unforgiving power to drop us in the same place. To leave us there.
Written above the entrance to The Cyclone is this triumphant proclamation: "Greatest Coaster in North America." A while ago, to be sure.
And here is where the past seems cruel. "Time waits for no man," or woman.
The world has gone on ahead. It has changed. Like it said it would. Like it does. Like it will.
All that is left for memory is irrelevance. If we could only see it in time.
So it is that the past is open to interpretation.