On the face of it, I have no issues with the fact that I can’t recall the past 26 years of my life. What sometimes flusters me though is the fact that because of the memory loss I can’t reciprocate the emotions of the people close to me — they have known and loved me for 28 years, while my depth of emotions towards them dates back to only the past two.
Since there’s no way I can come to par with their emotional state, I look for continuance in the two emotional things that I can still connect to – photography and writing.
When I first picked up the camera, my family noticed I was interested in the same type of photography that attracted me earlier — macro photography. I don’t know why I did it back then. But now, I don’t do it because of the creative nuances or the technical challenges.
I do it because I want to.
And when I crouch to photograph that flower, that I have clicked a hundred times before, I get the feeling that I have been doing this for a lot longer than two years. And I feel complete.
It’s the same with the other thing that’s of emotional interest to me — writing. Like with photography I was never trained as a writer. My Dad retired as a journalist and my younger brother’s a writer as well. Both, like me, have never had any formal training in writing. Yet we’ve all been internationally published, have written books, and headed editorial departments full of trained writers.
Writing’s an emotional skill for the three of us. Which would explain how I was able to restart writing professionally even before I could relearn how to run. I find writing to be emotionally gratifying.
And sometimes the emotions are overwhelming.
Like when I click a picture of a seasonal flower in 2012, and then later find the processed image exactly similar to another shot of the same flower that I had clicked way back in 2006 with a totally different camera! 6 years apart I shoot (and edit) the same flower in the exact same way that I did all that time ago. Same flower, same shot, same crop, and by golly, same person! That’s continuance.