Meeting Old Friends

I see people I have known before. Perhaps it has been more that ten or fifteen years since the last time I met with them. At first, I am not sure I am seeing someone I have met. The faces are unfamiliar, but listening to them tells me I have experienced this before. Then suddenly, they appear out of nowhere. Memory swoops down, and fills in the blank spaces. It acts as a device for recognition, but that is all it does. It recognizes, then it sits back. It doesn't come forward unless needed for recall. If I look at someone with what I have known, that is all I can see; what I have known. Memory is useful for recognition, then it is obedient. Obviously, memory can tell me what has changed physically in another person. Maybe they have gained one hundred pounds, or they have no hair. If I search my memories I can find evidence that it wasn't always that way. I can remember less fat, or more hair. But that is a wastage of energy. They are in front of me, talking, giving me knowledge of the last ten or fifteen years, and if I start my memories to try to remember them from before, I completely miss out on the living beauty of the moment forever unfolding in front of me. If I rely on my memories in a situation like that, I should just stay at home and daydream. The results would be the same; me reacting to my own mind, and not seeing anything in front of me.Two days ago I saw many people from my younger years at an outdoor concert. The last time I saw any of them was before I met with the present moment. And even though I met them all years ago, I was seeing them for the first time. I had my memories from before, but those memories - for whatever reason - couldn't alter, enhance, or otherwise interfere with anything in the moment; seeing with the physical eyes, like a camera recording what it sees. There was no commentary or notion about what was good or bad.

The stars were beautiful, and I could smell the river on the wind.