Dispelling the 'Ghosts' of the Past and riding the 'Waves' of Time

 

“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.” – Kungfu Panda

“Don’t let the past blackmail your future, to ruin a beautiful present.”- Dear Zindagi

 

Most ideas revolving around the concept of the past appear to reinforce and reiterate a single idea; the past isn’t something that should be dragged or clung onto. This, however does beget a simple yet seemingly unresolvable question – if the past is meant to be left behind, why does it continue to resurface?

Individuals who have been approached with the topic of the past, even when engaged in casual conversations often remark about the frustrating effects of its resurgence. The waves of the past have spared none in its resurgence, dousing even the most peaceful, calm, and detached individuals, who would often find themselves confronting what is commonly dubbed as the ‘ghosts of their past’. These ‘ghosts’ as we know tend to vary depending on the individual, with no age limit when it comes to its impact, thus contributing to its universality.

Once we have gauged an understanding of the nature of the past, as well as its universality, we can approach the million-dollar question through an examination of certain integral concepts such as time, and come up with some intriguing theories that would at least convey some semblance of closure, or at the very least, attempt to seal certain loopholes.

Time is an integral element of the past, and previously before the works of contemporary psychologists and philosophers such as Sigmund Freud, the concept of time was believed to be eternal and absolute. Time previously referred to what was measured by external clocks and calendars, and what is termed as chronological time. As put forward by Henry Bergson, chronological time can be measured by external sources and perspectives, and thus flows uniformly for each individual.

The notion of psychological time, as the other perspective observed by Bergson, is a vital and underrated aspect, which emerged as a popular concept in the 20^th century. Unlike chronological time, the instrument of measurement when it comes to psychological time revolves around human states of consciousness, which cannot be measured by material objects. Psychological time, also known as ‘duree’, is something that is experienced within and thus does not flow uniformly. This highlights ‘duree’ as a notion brimming with fluidity, which in turn varies according to each individual’s mind, and the way they perceive their internal state of consciousness.

Through an application of Bergson’s perspectives regarding time, it becomes increasingly evident that the concept of time consists of two facets. Each portrays a different aspect of the above concept, which in turn plays a significant role in the resurgence of one’s past. The fluidity of psychological time and the lag between the two facets could thus be perceived as a plausible explanation for the reappearance of the past.

An individual with exposure to some kind of traumatic event, for instance, would inevitably suffer the psychological repercussions that accompany it. This would ultimately lead to a heightened form of anxiety, as the individual is constantly faced with triggers that remind them of the transpired incident, thus creating a lag between ‘duree’ and chronological time. The individual’s state of consciousness is not in line with chronological time, and the disparity created, impacts their quality of life, making them feel as if they are constantly battling the ‘ghosts ‘of their past.

This disparity between external and internal time, including its effects on people, could be compared with the effect created when one’s rational side of the brain is not in sync with its emotional side. When either side is completely discarded, an individual’s inner state of mind becomes severely compromised, resulting in a state of mind that one could label as a state of absurdity and severe instability. An overindulgence of emotion leads to delusion coupled with an insatiable desire to feel good at any cost. On the other hand, an overindulgence of rationality leads to chronic indifference, which in turn, impacts the individual’s ability to connect and empathize with others, which ultimately leads to a feeling of hopelessness and lack of purpose.

Resolution then lies in easing the disparity and sealing the lag created by the two facets of time, enabling the smooth functioning of the above two in coordination with each other, in order to restore the lost equilibrium. Like the rational and the emotional parts of the brain, ‘duree’ and chronological time must ideally be bound together in holy matrimony, in order to exorcise those ‘ghosts’ and reduce the potential of their resurgence.

However, the resolution itself poses numerous obstacles, as it violates certain fundamental principles of the human condition, such as the disillusionment surrounding the notion of self-control. Most of the external incidents that surround us tend to be the work of forces that are completely out of our control. External factors such as the weather, outcomes of relationships, the forces of nature to name a few, are entirely out of our mundane control, and attempts to control such factors are not only futile, but prove to be absurd as well.

The lack of control we have towards outside forces, are reflective of our hold over chronological time. While we may be held accountable for certain actions that perpetuate certain conditions ranging from small scale incidents such as relationships, and career prospects, to large scale events like war and daily inequities, those actions reflect what is perhaps only approximately two percent of the control we possess over external events. By now, it is apparent that individuals do not possess absolute control over external events, consequently leading to them being subject, to the conditions and proceedings, imposed and demanded by chronological time.

Our inner states of consciousness on the other hand, possibly provide more scope for self-control, as they revolve around the internal state of our mind, and how it perceives unfolded events. Theoretically, one would assume that in order to restore equilibrium, one would simply need to adjust their mindset and alter the manner in which they perceive events, to gain some form of self-control. After all, even renowned philosophers such as Socrates have declared that the root of all virtue lies in reason.

However, as stated previously when one attempts to rely on reason as the main solution, it results in indifference and a sense of hopelessness. Furthermore, the ability to simply alter your perspective based on external events caters to the illusion of self-control. Most often, individuals are aware of their actions, choices, and outcomes, yet they lack the willpower to do so. Will power comes from feeling, which requires emotion, thus proving that reason, logic and rationality cannot be frequently applied to alter one’s inner state, so that it suits their external circumstances. For instance, if a close family member passes away, we know that the logical solution lies in accepting their death, and moving on. We are also aware that death is inevitable, yet we are constantly grief-stricken when faced with the death of a loved one. Even manageable situations or so-called “first world problems” like relationship complications of dealing with being rejected by the one you love, does not ease the intensity of the pain caused, even though we are aware that the solution lies in not taking everything personally, and to forgive and move on. This goes on to show that although individuals are aware of the solution, they do not implement it because they don’t feel like doing so.

Society has ingrained the belief that in order to do something, one must simply want to do so, and muster enough courage to get there. A belief that altering our perspective is, as simple as deciding to do it and having the spirit to do so. This belief is quite damaging as it feeds into the illusion of self-control. Controlling one’s mind is as futile as attempting to control the sea and the intensity of its waves. It is not just unreasonable. It is impossible. Therefore, as self-control is an illusion, we cannot exert control over our inner state of consciousness, making us subject to the circumstances enforced by psychological time.

By now we have established that a plausible explanation for the resurgence of the past is due to the lag created when one’s psychological time does not tally with the forces of chronological time. Moreover, we have also explored the disillusionment involved in the concept of self-control, which portrayed the lack of control over the above two facets of time. It is apparent therefore that individuals are subject to the ravaging forces of time and are at the mercy of nature.

If, individuals have no control over external and internal influences, we could assume that individuals are not responsible for experiencing triggers, and cannot be held accountable for the lag created between chronological and psychological time. Furthermore, if individuals are at the mercy of the forces of time and nature, it begets a more concerning and uncomfortable question – can man truly be blamed for the recurrence of history, if there are other forces at work? If the ghosts of the past cannot be truly vanquished, can individuals be held accountable for the recurrence of the larger events at work?

All of this points to one crucial fact - the absence of self-control places individuals at the mercy of the forces of the environment and the universe. When we can’t control the ways of the universe, and human nature, we adapt and learn to accept the conditions of our being, instead of fighting against it. Similarly, when individuals learn to accept the fluidity of their states of consciousness, and understand its nature in relation to chronological time, they will understand that it is not ‘ghosts’ that need to be dispelled, but ‘waves’ of the past that need to be ridden.

At the start, the waves may overwhelm you, engulf you, knock you over, and perhaps even pull you under. But, we often forget that it would never kill us. Gradually, with patience and understanding, we would adapt and learn to gauge the intensity of the waves, and in doing so, surf the waves of the past until one day, the lag between the two facets of time simply cease to exist.

“To gain control, one must accept the fact that they have no control” – the hopeful pessimist

 

The Ramblings of a Madman

11.33 pm

An abyss of darkness. Tinted windows. The soft whirring sound of the fans. The shuffling sound of the matron’s shoes stomping across each aisle, as she completed her final round of checking up, on each patient. Satisfied, she sweeps out of the door, and immediately the lights go off. The cranking of a chain breaks through the silent atmosphere, as a padlock is slipped into place.

As if on cue, silence fills the empty dark abyss once more.

12.01 am

After what seemed like an eternity of trying, Adrian threw back his covers and propped up his pillow. Laying back he let his eyes wander, scanning the numerous immobile unconscious inmates lying in the ward. He often wondered what it felt like to effortlessly fall asleep without the endless cycle of thoughts taking over, on a daily basis. The experts had attributed it as one of the numerous symptoms of his condition. But then.

“Trouble sleeping?”

Adrian instinctively whipped his head around to find a tall dark man leaning against his bedpost. He was unusually well dressed for a visitor in the ‘Institute of Blown Up Minds’. His black Gucci suit, with dazzling silver cufflinks, seemed to brighten up his outfit. His shoes were well-polished, and an aura of unquestionable authority seemed to radiate from him. Despite the visitor’s refined distinguished demeanor, Adrian couldn’t help but feel a slight chill, coursing through his body. It took immense energy and effort to suppress the urge to quiver like a helpless child. He involuntarily rubbed his arms in an attempt to thwart the sudden surge of gooseflesh, that was threatening to break across his skin.

The well-dressed visitor was now making his way across the aisle towards the bed next to Adrian’s. A fat man in his mid-fifties lay sprawled on the bed. His arms were dangling on either side of the bed frame, searing the image of a rather pathetic crucifixion in the minds of those who had the misfortune to glance. To Adrian’s utmost horror, the visitor proceeded to use the man’s bulging stomach as a seat.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to wake him up?” hissed Adrian.

His mind was now swirling with all the endless scenarios which all happened to end disastrously, and were further stimulated by the sheer underrated fear of discovery.

 “Ha-ha! Protective now are we” chuckled the visitor.

He then proceeded to tease Adrian but immediately ceased, upon seeing the distress scrawled on Adrian’s face which had now paled in response.

“My dear boy, you do know that you happen to be the only one who can see me right?”

 He had now taken a small metal flask out of his coat pocket, and took a long swig from its contents. Smirking, he held out the flask towards the pale huddled figure, who had now drawn the bedsheet around him like a cape.

“Why is it that I am the only one who can see you? What’s so special about me?” mumbled Adrian completely ignoring the outstretched hand in front of him.

The visitor snorted and slowly withdrew his hand. After chugging down a few more sips he spoke.

“Well, why don’t you tell me Adrian. Or better yet, tell me what do the so called ‘All Knowing Experts’ have to say?”

 The visitor lay back and looked at him expectantly.             

Adrian glared at the visitor who was now using the man’s open drooling mouth as a self -furnished foot rest. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be knowing that since you are supposedly all knowing and all powerful!” snapped Adrian tired of all the mind games, and the reverse psychology. Yet, after a slight pause he grudgingly answered.

“They said that I was mad. Schizophrenic. That’s what they call…” he stopped abruptly as the visitor had burst into a massive uncontrollable fit of laughter. The visitor seemed clearly oblivious to Adrian’s deathly dark stares.

“I always found the collective creativity of mortals to be the most underrated form of entertainment” sniggered the visitor who had now decided to occupy the edge of Adrian’s bed.

“Only mortals would come up with the most bizarre terms as an attempt to classify anything that are beyond their understanding. Ironically, it happens to be one of the most common, yet unrecognized forms of madness.”

Adrian shook his head. ‘This is all wrong….” He muttered. “You are not supposed to even be here…. I…I… shouldn’t even be seeing you, much less engaging in a conversation with you.”

A small forlorn smile lit up at the corners of the visitor face. He sighed.

“Humans tend to label everything they come across ranging from connections to mere biological functions. It is a pathetic and futile attempt to create a sense of reassurance. An illusionary sense of control. They say every individual is unique, but are unwilling to accept unrecognized forms of uniqueness. Ergo, the use of their preferred umbrella term - ‘mad’.”

The visitor paused and glanced at Adrian who was now wearing a look of deep meditation. He badly wanted to believe the visitor whom he barely knew. Unexpectedly, Adrian found himself at a complete loss for words. As he struggled to rationalize his thoughts, he realized that the weight of the visitor’s words, as coherent as it seemed, contained extremely complicated concepts that were currently indigestible. He could not remember the last thing the visitor said or the point at which he’d finally fallen into a deep and dreamless slumber.

09.59 am

The metal clanging sound of the gong in the morning was still ringing in Adrian’s ears, as he stumbled his way towards the dining room, along with the other inmates. The smell of onion soup and toast wafted through the dining hall, finding its way up Adrian’s nostrils. The dining room reverberated with noise and confusion, as the inmates dashed forth to claim their seats. A few tables to Adrian’s right, three inmates were engaged in an intense brawl. Adrian rolled his eyes, and started serving a small bowl of hot soup with four pieces of toast. Today, feeling rather ravenous for some unknown reason, he swiftly occupied a desolate chair at the corner.

10.37 am

He had massacred two pieces of toast and was on the verge of clawing the third when a voice behind him whispered

“Mind saving me the last piece?”

Adrian choked and a large chunk of chewed toast shot out of his mouth like a Frisbee. A ripple of laughter erupted immediately, spreading across the entire row at the dining table. Each one pointed at Adrian and laughed hysterically. Adrian turned a deep shade of red. Sweat had gathered on the insides of his palms. His fingers shook, as he hurriedly pushed his plate away and walked out of the room.

11.09 am

Halfway down the corridor to his ward Adrian paused to catch his breath, which came out in ragged gasps. Raging with embarrassment, despite knowing that the others couldn’t help reacting the way they did. However, this knowledge provided him with exceptionally less comfort. Sighing, Adrian turned to go into the ward where he found his path blocked by a stranger.

Unlike the previous well- dressed visitor, the stranger happened to be decked in long bright white pants, accompanied with shiny polished white covered shoes. The sleeves of his bright white shirt was long and spotless. A gleaming black leather belt bound across his waist, enriched with a silvery metallic buckle in the shape of a vaguely familiar crest. He was leaning with his hands crossed, against the door frame leading to the ward, like a boulder obstructing the entrance of a cave.

“Do I know you?” grumbled Adrian, who still hadn’t recovered from his breakfast fiasco which had occurred purely because of this stranger’s creepy act of whispering in the first place.

“I am the Great Omnipresent Divine” he chuckled.

“Great! He speaks Adjective” muttered Adrian. Definitely a new inmate at the institute.

Frustrated, Adrian shoved the stranger aside, but curiously enough, he wouldn’t budge. Startled, he tried again. And again. And again. The stranger just stood there calm and composed which only infuriated Adrian further, and gave him incentive to punish the stranger. The attempt was futile, as it was like continuously ramming oneself into a brick wall. Finally, he gave up and stroked his arms which had already started to throb.

“Interesting”.

The stranger tittered as he watched an infuriated Adrian nurse his throbbing arm. Ignoring Adrian’s lack of acknowledgement, he continued.

 “Using one emotion to suppress or conceal another. And they say that mortals are mindless creatures.”

The stranger approached Adrian who cowered, and appeared clearly disoriented as well as in obvious pain. He attempted to sneak past the stranger, but found that his legs refused to obey him. He slumped down against the wall in defeat.

“So Adrian, why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

His voice radiated concern and kindness, that Adrian found himself unconsciously lowering his guard. His anger dissipated. Oddly he found himself longing to confide in this stranger. There was a sedative yet authoritative aura emitting from him, in contrast to the icy chill he experienced when, the previous well-dressed visitor had approached him.

“Everything” whispered Adrian. His voice quivered as he blurted out these words.

“Every moment that passes is a constant reminder of the imprisonment that I am forced to undergo. I am trapped in this institution because they think I am mad. I am trapped in this body of flesh and bones that deteriorates little by little, on a daily basis. Each time, I try to tell people what goes on in my mind, they all have this pitiful look in their eyes, and throw all their fancy medical terms at me…. I…. I just…. and Adrian found himself unable to continue the sentence. Tears started streaming down Adrian’s face, and he furiously rubbed them away almost clawing his eyes out. After a few minutes, Adrian proceeded with his confession.

“Maybe they are right after all. I am mad. I don’t even know why I am even talking to you, or why is it that I am the only one who can see you. If you are one of my delusions, why haven’t I seen you before. And please don’t tell me it’s because I am special or that my madness is a gift, like the previous well- dressed gentleman. I want the truth. And I want it now!” snapped Adrian.

The stranger sighed, yet retained his authoritative demeanor.

“I gathered that you have previously spoken to my wayward son already. He was always an intelligent one, and had a very interesting way of looking at things, in spite of being the Prince of Hell.”

 A look of longing and nostalgia crossed over the stranger’s face. For a moment, Adrian forgot his misplaced anger and tear stained face. He suddenly felt compelled to offer some words of comfort. However, he managed to resist the temptation, and resorted to nodding his head instead.

“Communication. A vital yet consistently misunderstood aspect of humanity. Humans tend to speak a lot. They go to great lengths to ensure the continuation of communication, and even go on to develop various means of enhancing it as well. Unfortunately, in spite of the abundant availability of communicative modes, humans still lack the fundamental skill of communicating. This lack of communication in an era dominated by technology and other various modes pertaining to communication, is what should be regarded as madness. The fact that one cannot express themselves and be understood in spite of all the forums of communications available is nothing short of utter madness.” The stranger finished and gazed expectantly at his companion.

12.13 pm

Adrian was silent, as he pondered over the words of the stranger. Though It all seemed to make sense, but something was not quite right.

“Are you saying that my madness is just because I can’t communicate? That it is only the fault of those who are unwilling to comprehend my visions?” croaked Adrian.

The stranger smiled forlornly and nodded.

“Yes. Miscommunication is rampant all over the world. Even between the realms as you might have heard. They call me the Almighty. The all-knowing supreme force, and various other names and titles as you know. God. The Holy Father. The list is not exhaustive, and hence I must admit that it is quite hard to keep track of them all I’m afraid. The nature of my form, my bidding, my work is often subjected to great debate. Your ideas are quite revolutionary Adrian. It is why I have finally visited. To show you that you are on the correct path, no matter what the medics have to say about it.”

Pausing to take it all in, Adrian mentally prepared himself. Now was his moment. He had to choose his words very carefully in order for it to display the intended effect.

“So you are saying that you are actually God. As in the Creator itself. And you do admit that you have often been a victim of miscommunication as well”, finished Adrian, pausing to see how the stranger would respond.

“Adrian my son, not only have I been a victim but I have also been used as a reason to fuel the raging fire of miscommunication. Wars have been fought in my name. Murder and other heinous crimes have been committed under my name. In fact, institutions have been built to preserve my name, which mortals use to instill fear and control. I have been both victim and victimized on numerous occasions for centuries.”

After intently listening to each and every word, having not yet received a reaction from the stranger, Adrian braced himself for the final question. The often unresolved million-dollar question.

“If you detest being victimized due to miscommunication, why do you allow it to happen in the first place?”

The stranger’s eyes sparkled. But before he could reply, Adrian quickly pressed on.

“If all these atrocities were committed in your name, why did you not intervene and stop them? Instead you let them carry on for eons allowing history to repeat itself. You say that you have been a victim of miscommunication. Yet, thousands of mortals pray, and invest a lot of faith and belief in you. Why do you not heed their pleas? Why don’t you ever listen when we try to reach out? It seems to be that you are not a victim but the reason why miscommunication prevails!”

The last few sentences rang out rattling the air like ricocheting bullets, which invariably attracted, and drew a number of onlookers towards Adrian. Adrian had turned a deep shade of red, and his whole body was quaking with the intensity of his rage. The stranger looked concerned, and attempted to pacify him.

“Adrian…...I….”

But Adrian never got to hear the rest of it, as he was busy wrestling with a woman in a blue uniform, who was hovering over him. In the right palm of her outstretched hand, which was pinned down by Adrian, was a syringe filled with an antipsychotic drug. Adrian’s eyes were bloodshot, his body shaking uncontrollably, as he thrusted the nurse against the wall, startling all the other inmates. His ears seemed to have been clogged with rage as he could barely hear the orders given by his victim. Suddenly, he felt himself been dragged away. His attempts to fight back proved to be in vain, as he was being tied up, and forcefully led away.

1.17 pm

Everything seemed to be moving fast, and rather blurry. He blinked his eyes but to no avail. All of a sudden, he felt himself being shoved onto a bed in an isolated room. The bed was hard and made out of cold metal, and its impact sent waves of pain coursing up Adrian’s back. He tried to move, and realized that he had been strapped down. He struggled harder, and the room seemed to drift in and out of focus. He seemed to be able to only hear and feel, which made him panic. He could literally feel his heart beating in his chest, as if trying to break free from the body, it was imprisoned in.

“Clear!”

All at once two metallic black pads crackling with electricity, as if one was trying to tune in to a radio channel, were placed on Adrian’s bare chest. Immediately, his whole body jerked as if a spirit had suddenly entered his body. His body started twitching and convulsing until it suddenly sprang up again. Everything began to fade, and at last his body lay immobile.

2.39 pm

When Adrian finally opened his eyes, he saw a tall lean figure looming above him. He blinked rapidly. It took several minutes for fog surrounding his vision cleared. The figure was now grinning widely at him, dressed in black pants and a black shirt. A sliver band dangled at the end of his wrist, with two intersecting wings etched on it.

“It’s you!” Adrian laughed as he gazed at the figure.

“Thank heavens! I was afraid that your fiasco would make it impossible for you to recognize your very own guardian angel”.

At these words, both of them broke into a fit of hysterical laughter.

“Shhhhhh…” he whispered, trying in vain to stop the incoming surge of laughter that was threatening to engulf him. “If they heard us laughing, they would surely try to sedate you, or administer some bizarre drug. Who knows what kind of tortures these doctors come up with on a daily basis”.

Adrian snorted and exploded into another fit of uncontrollable giggles making him breathless. As he struggled to regain his composure, he decided to confront the angel. Adrian was tired of all the lies and the manipulation. He didn’t feel special. He certainly did not feel like he belonged at the institute either. He deserved to know the truth.

“Am I mad?” he asked directly.

The guardian angel beamed.

“Madness is not a state of mind; neither is it conceptualized ideology.

In its purest form madness is nothing less than a landscape of oneself.”

 In that sense, my dear Adrian… each and every one of us …….is –

---mad.