The things that live in us in anticlimatic

I feel, often, that most of what guides and drives me are entities within my psyche that I struggle to name or describe. For the sake of discussion, I’ll call them “spirits,” though I don’t necessarily mean that in the two primary definitions of the term- not ghosts, nor liquors- but rather a kind of ‘idea’ that self generates with its own atmosphere and gravity. A memory, perhaps, or a chain of memories across a chain of people across a chain of time and space. It could also quite literally be a person.

A certain era and genre of music and scent of a kitchen (cabbage) from a specific generation, gone now, lives in both me and my partner. Weirdly enough, it’s one of the most important things we share. We both have such warm associations with the spirit of the same era, it keeps us close in bed at night.

I think what is most important to us, in the people that we choose to have around, is that we have shared spirits- that the things that live inside of us, live inside those around us- as much as possible. My grandfather is a literal spirit that lives within me. I can hear his voice and opinion on everything I encounter in life as though he were a permanent companion. A fellow I mentioned a while ago, Willis, who used to work with him well back in the day- my grandfather’s spirit lives in him to. We can see it in each other, when we talk about him. And it’s why we hug when we see one another, rather than just shake hands.

Last updated August 10, 2024