Moments

One of the most intriguing people I am acquainted with posted this, and I've watched it four times already. Like her, I'm finding one of the youtube comments a wee bit thought provoking:

"i hate it, i hate it, i hate it. it made me cry. and my life is nothing like that. or just like that. and i think it's really sad that no matter what we do, there's nothing more to it than that."

And I think that yes, my life is also nothing like that, and just like that, both at the same time. But I think the beauty of it is that despite everything we do, it is still beyond our power to stretch moments out for longer than moments. Yes, we can record them and play them back, and manufacture them. We can pose them and impose them, even belittle and supercede them, but... a moment will always be just that one mere moment: That pause as life and time collide and swell, flesh out, flourish and ache, and you realise that this - this! - is a moment. And you try to feel it, really feel it, just as it pulls back, recedes, ebbs and passes by. And you are left with the residue, that slight throb of it-was-here-and-now-it's-gone-and-what-do-I-have-left-?. And that is sad. But that residue is also the beauty of it. Because then we have to try our damndest to grab it and love it and live it and appreciate and learn from it, and try to figure out why moment-residue is sticking all over us.