Dès Vu

It’s strange to know that hours from now, this moment will be a memory – and that our perception of this moment will keep evolving. Sometimes, I feel like Calvin (from the comic series ‘Calvin and Hobbes’), who once cried out that time is ‘slipping through our fingers like grains of sand’. And that’s painfully true. The second an experience arrives, it becomes a memory.

Dès Vu (n). The awareness that this will become a memory (Source: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

Calendars, clocks, watches: tools which give us the illusion that we’re in charge of the passage of time. Ticking off days, counting the seconds, monitoring the small digits in the corner of our computer screen. But even though we see the second hand slinking away from its previous position, we’re usually unaware of the fact that we’ll never be able to relive this moment. And that’s natural – for if we keep monitoring the advance of time, when will we get the chance to live?

From the moment we reach high school, we’re constantly told that we need to start thinking about ‘our future’. Coming from a competitive city in a competitive country, I know firsthand of how relatives persistently ask you what you want to pursue, how you’re going to reach there, what you’re doing right now. Most Indian students enroll in separate classes that will prepare them for the appallingly competitive examinations that they dream of excelling in. From ninth grade (or even far before), students view their diligence as their portal to the best colleges – which they won’t enroll in for over three years.

I’m luckier in that way. Since I’m applying to universities in the United States, I’m encouraged to spend my time on activities I genuinely enjoy (such as writing, editing, and journalism). But even then, there’s always that voice in my head that says: ‘do well in this test, or it’ll show on your college application’. Regardless of where we’d like to study or what we’d like to do, we’re always told to look at our future. There’s that menacing motif that refuses to leave us alone: ‘work now, relax later’.

But the truth is – if we’re always told to consider our present with respect to the future, when can we appreciate the ‘now’? As a perfectionist who constantly strives to look ahead, I’m not surprised that I never thought about this question earlier – but now wish that I had. For youngsters who are constantly told to think about their future or the forthcoming days, the present already becomes a thing of the past – because they can never really live in it. And the same scenario applies to me, and to so many students across the globe.

‘Live in the moment’. That’s a quote I often read in magazine articles or blog posts – and a quote that can be incredibly difficult to follow. The phrase actually reminds me of another word from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows: Ambedo – a moment we experience for its own sake. Or, to elaborate, a trance in which we become completely absorbed in the sensory details surrounding us – such as the whirring of a fan, the color of the sky, or the scent of grass entering through an open window. And if not solely concentrating on sensory details, then perhaps focusing on the work we’re doing, or the food we’re eating, or the music we’re listening to. It’s embracing each positive thought that flows through our head, or striving to identify the small cadences that make up a melody.

The word ‘Ambedo’ can be particularly meaningful to students – and can have connotations that are rarely applied in real life. But then again, the past has already gone and the future hasn’t yet arrived… which means that all we have at a moment is the moment itself.

So for us, living in the moment can mean not dwelling on the future when studying, working, or pursuing our hobbies and interests. It can mean not mulling over events we have no power to change. It can mean not conjuring worst-case scenarios about events that are unlikely to crystallize in real life. 

The time I started writing this article has become a memory – and I can never get that moment back. But it’s a memory that differs from my other ones in one main aspect: it was a time in which I was infused in the actual moment. I didn’t use the present as a means of preparing for my future or of dwelling about the past. I used the moment to let my words trickle down my mind and onto a page, and to let my thoughts circulate unhindered. Contrary to my usual approach to life, I actually lived in the moment.

Dès Vu (n). The awareness that this will become a memory. While this may seem like a melancholy message, it won’t be in one situation. And that’s if the memory documented a juncture in which we were actually consumed in the here and now. Because honestly, as long as we appreciate a moment for what it is, extract as much meaning and beauty from it as possible, and don’t get chained by thoughts pertaining to the past or future, why should we ever mourn its passing?