Over all these thoughts I skimmed rapidly, for another inquiry demanded my attention more imperiously, the inquiry, which on previous occasions I had postponed, into the cause of this felicity which I had just experienced into the character of this certitude with which it imposed itself. And this cause I began to divine as I compared these diverse happy impressions, diverse yet with this in common, that I experienced them at the present moment and at the same time in the context of a distant moment, so that the past was made to encroach upon the present and I was made to doubt whether I was in the one or the other. The truth surely was that the being within me which had enjoyed these impressions had enjoyed them because they had in them something that was common to a day long past and to the present, because in some way they were extra-temporal, and this being made its appearance only when, through one of these identifications of the present with the past, it was likely to find itself in the one and only medium in which it could exist and enjoy the essence of things, that is to say: outside time. This explained why it was that my anxiety on the subject of my death had ceased at the moment when I had unconsciously recognised the taste of the little madeleine, since the being which at that moment I had been was an extra-temporal being and therefore unalarmed by the vicissitudes of the future. This being had only come to me, only manifested itself outside of activity and immediate enjoyment, on those are occasions when the miracle of an analogy had made me escape from the present. And only this being had the power to perform that task which had always defeated the efforts of my memory and my intellect, the power to make me rediscover days that were long past, the Time that was Lost.
Marcel Proust, Time Regained, p. 904
"The past is never dead. It's not even past." Yes, we're all familiar with William Faulkner's famous line from Requiem for a Nun. As Proust continues to hone in on the vagaries of memory and perception and reality, I suppose it was natural that I would think of Faulkner's line.
With that in mind (us, not Marcel, since Remembrance of Things Past was written decades earlier) Proust opines, "And this cause I began to divine as I compared these diverse happy impressions, diverse yet with this in common, that I experienced them at the present moment and at the same time in the context of a distant moment, so that the past was made to encroach upon the present and I was made to doubt whether I was in the one or the other." In The Accidental Mind Linden insists that the self is dramatically shaped by perception and memory (and since both are highly desperately flawed we are seldom making decisions based on solid evidence), and if this is true then by definition the past is very present. If you follow Proust's logic then you can see why it's sometimes difficult to tell whether you're living in the present or the past. Think of the times you've looked at your SO and all you can see if the person who cheated on you three years earlier; essentially, you're not even there at that moment - you are completely immersed in the past. Proust continues: "The truth surely was that the being within me which had enjoyed these impressions had enjoyed them because they had in them something that was common to a day long past and to the present, because in some way they were extra-temporal, and this being made its appearance only when, through one of these identifications of the present with the past, it was likely to find itself in the one and only medium in which it could exist and enjoy the essence of things, that is to say: outside time." So, what is an "extra-temporal" experience? I guess, by definition, it would have to be an experience or a memory that exists in both the present and the past (I feel a Dickens Christmas story breaking out). Theoretically, any experience or memory of the divine would would extra-temporal, but I would argue that so many of my prized memories of my son would fall into the same category. They exist outside of time and are therefore, by their very nature, transcendent. Now, what do they have in common? Maybe they are both examples of a purity of emotion, of pure unadulterated love, that are untouchable and not only survive the vicissitudes of time, but are "more" than time.
Now, does that mean that we can recapture these memories, because they exist outside of time, in a way that we never could we "ordinary" memories? "And only this being had the power to perform that task which had always defeated the efforts of my memory and my intellect, the power to make me rediscover days that were long past, the Time that was Lost." Hmmm, I'm afraid this another one of those Proustian passages which will require more time and thought, and the inevitable revisit.
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