I know very well that what I’m trying to get at is just behind that next corner in my mind. And yet, I never seem to get there : a chasm in between and no plane to cross it, or something of the kind.
This feeling of knowing what you want to remember being just so very close, but not still not close enough to touch it and say, “Ah, here it is. This thing *exactly* what I’ve wanted to say/think/do/remember.” But no … just reaching for now.
Just the other day, I had the interesting wish to walk to work : which in effect meant that for some odd reason I started thinking of the three poems I know (well, actually, knew) by heart. At first it was clear : nothing would come back to me. A good few hundred meters forward through Eaton Park and I could get a confident grip on the first of these. ‘Leisure’ indeed is not the most difficult, but the part “if full of care” evaded me for quite some time. Nevertheless, in time I managed to piece together everything except the two lines on stars and streams of light.
After that it was the time of that poem of destruction : ‘The Rains of Castamere’, which is quite nice and has a wonderful rhythm. As it went, I got a good grip on that as well though I remembered that there was a piece missing (and I knew three words of it, just couldn’t make it go with anything else) — when I checked it later on, the missing part turned out to be the first two lines.
And then, finally of the three I consider myself knowing, it was time for the Battle of Finnsburgh. Given I am not especially crazy, this restricts itself to the first six or so lines of the damned epic but even so it contains a special thought that I quite enjoy. This, the last one, was painless, and easily remembered. Quite possibly because I have known it for the longest.
Just to test my memory, I thought of the two Tennyson poems (one on the Light Brigade, another on the HMS Revenge) that I could have remembered bits about but with one I got as far as “boldly they rode and well” and with the other that it was rather repetitive.
After that I kind of resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn’t recall much else.
Yet, along with some random (but cool) facts that spring to my mind every now and then, I can easily say that our minds pick up the interesting things which make sense to you personally. I couldn’t remember anything of cars if I tried : yet for some odd reason I have a fair idea of how they built some railways in India and the US and Spain. And this continues through all the topics there are — so let’s stop wasting our times with things we don’t care about, for it doesn’t work out in the end.