The Time Traveler

I finally got around to reading The Time Traveler’s Wife this past week. It’s been sitting on my bookshelf for well over a year and I’ve been anxious to read it but absorbed in non-fiction. Last weekend I finally tucked into the book and promptly found myself time traveling over the next few days—as in, where did the time go? I literally could not put the book down except for the brief visits to bathroom and kitchen, and the occasional jaunt into the realms of business when Duirwaigh needed me.

If you have not read the book, don’t worry. I won’t spoil it for you. But I will tell you one of the opening scenes features a middle age man traveling back in time to visit himself at the age of five. This is not a flash back, but a literal visit where one character exists in the same room at two different ages. The next scene features him visiting his wife when she was only six years old. Needless to say, this touched and thrilled me, as I contemplated meeting my self at age five. What would I say to her? How would I regard her?

As I laid in bed reading these scenes and contemplating what I might have to say to mini-me or what exchange I might have with a young version of boyfriend Silas, I could not help traveling further along in time. Suddenly I was standing at the door of my bedroom, age 84, looking at my 37-year-old self reading the Time Traveler’s Wife by night light, under a red velvet duvet. (A red duvet, I might add, buried under 17 layers of dog hair.)

The sensation of being a much older version of myself made me view the room, the bed, the entire scene—including the dog hair—with new eyes. Suddenly I loved the lamp beside the bed that only sometimes works and wobbles when I so much as look at it the wrong way. I loved the nightstand with six bottles of half-drunk water and fourteen Hershey’s kisses rappers on it. I snuggled deeply into Isabella’s fur (my Chihuahua who insists on sleeping by my head) and truly inhaled her. She will not be alive when I am 84. Nor will Tinkerbell, (my other Chihuahua) who sleeps between my knees each night. She makes me hot by midnight and I am constantly doing a horizontal version of ‘The Hokey Pokey’ to maneuver into a comfortable sleeping position. But my 84-year-old self observed me in bed with those two love buckets and thought ‘Lucky girl.’ And then there’s Silas. I turned over in bed to see him sound asleep, his long dark hair splayed over our blood red sheets. He is a handsome devil, one I adore and take for granted every day. As if there will always be another day, every day.

My eyes welled with tears, for I could feel my 84 year old self remembering this moment in all it’s ordinariness and wanting it back, even just for five minutes. I laid the book down on my chest and absorbed the room deeply. I kissed Isabelle and reached under the covers to pet Tinky. I promptly woke Silas to proclaim my undying love for him and then I set about mentally kissing and hugging everything in my room: the nightstand, the lamp, the red pillows, the undies, sandals and t-shirts strewn across the floor, each and every one of the renegade dog hairs—all the clumsy, disorderly proof that I was here, that I loved and was loved, that I shared joy and sorrow and hope and breath.

And so I ask you? What practical magic lurks in your day? What exceptional moment hides in your routine?

If you could meet your self at age five, what would you say? Do? If you could meet your self at any age, what advice or comfort would you share? And finally, if you are lucky enough to live to be 84, what moment ARE YOU NOW LIVING that your 84 year old self would counsel you to embrace? Where would she tell you to look harder, listen deeper, embrace longer?

What gifts lay in your lap –right now—unopened? Ask the question, then wait for the Time Traveler to show up. She’ll tell you.

Comments

[Tamara]

How ironic this is! I've always tried to live my life by the 84 year old I assumed (hoped) I'll be someday, sitting on the porch, reflecting on my life. I knew I'd never be proud of how clean I kept my toilet bowls, but how I've lived or haven't lived my life. The gift is waiting for me someday.

Thanks for the great review of the book, which I'd heard about on NPR and added to my (very long) to read list.

[kesang (Bhutan)]

Oh........how I wish this book's available here in my country.'m dying to lay my hands on it. from your narrations i could make out its an interesting book...I could already feel myself moving back and forth to my childhood days and oldage. Its truely creative and inspiring.
"m lucky to 've discovered this blog. Thanks a lot for such blog.
Have a pleasant day,
kesang

[Nenyath]

I read this with tears in my eyes and went straight to meditate on it. I sat cross legged on my couch, an older me pointed out to me a present in my lap, she did not give me this for it was already there. It was a small square present, nicely wrapped up in some soft white wrapper and green ribbon. I took up the present and shaked it and heard the tantalizing tingling within and then went on to open it. The silk ribbon easily came off and I unrapped the paper with the same antisipation as I used to feel Christmas Eve. The paper revealed a wooden box with carvings of stars and a moon glowing brightly on the azure blue background. Faires and unicorns danced under the sky by the soft glow of the flowers. For a long moment I just admired the box and the childlish memories it brought. Then I slowly opened the lid. Inside lay many wonders, my whole life, my dear mate, my family, my friends, the candles in the window, the mess on the table from my mission about creating christmas angels, the fresh fruit on the chest, reminding me about the beautiful things I do for myself, the dices and the books reminding me of the fun times we have with roleplaying and a dozen other jewels. In the middle of all this however, lay a perfect round diamond with a thousand facetts, it caugt light and spread a thousand rainbows while glowing even stronger, it was beautiful! Gently I scooped it up and held it in my palm, I stared at it with tears in my eyes and I kept staring even though the light almost blinded me. That diamond is my soul, shinning and radiant. As I put it back into the box I cried of happiness and when the lid closed slowly the light spilled out as sunshine through a door slightly open. The chest is my dreams within my dreams my material life exists but without my soul there would be no sun to give life to everything else. Thank you for helping me realise this wonderful gift! I guess what the older me tried to tell me is this, "You are beautiful and your life is filled with wonder, I will not tell you what, but just around the corner there lies great adventures, actually you are in one right now!". To myself as a child I'd say only this, "You are right, it is real, the faeries and the unicorns, they dance in the moonlight and you can dance with them!"

Fly forever free!

[Becca]

I loved this book too, and now, thanks to your thoughtful post, I'm going to re-read it with some of your very insightful questions in mind.

Your descriptions of bed in the morning remind me very much of my own sleeping situation - only mine is with two shih tzu's! I too, usually find myself lying catty-corned of the huge king sized bed with the two of them sprawled comfortably beside me. My poor husband ends up hanging onto the edge for dear life! But we love them, and those are the memories our 84 year old selves will cherish.

I am enjoying catching up on your blog!

[Joyce Marston]

I don't really know what this means, but if my 84 yr old self could see me here sitting alone, having left a husband I loved, but could not love me enough, she would say 'you are gold'. I see mainly the pain of my lost marriage, a daughter's attack by a friend, another daughter's cancer reoccurring. But at 84, I see a comfortable apartment, a body that still works properly, a family grown & with children of their own, parents still living, 2 hand-raised cats, & a magical dog who's helped to heal my heart. Maybe the message is that I'm richer than I think I am.

[lisa krasa]

Hi Angi,
What a wonderful writer you have become. You and Salias must be very happy. Good for you. Love ya, Asil :)

[Mark]

Of course.. if an 84 year old version of myself showed up... he'd probably say something along the lines of: "Hey there, dude. Got something really important to tell you.... ermm.... umm... tip of my tongue..... ermm.. I'll remember it in a second..... um......who are you again?... jeez.. sorry.. I'll forget my own name next."

;)

[Mark]

What would you say to a previous version of yourself?... Would you warn yourself of bad things to come so they could be avoided..knowing that who you are now and where you are now has been shaped by those events as much as the positive ones? Not to mention the changes, for better or worse, to those around you?
I could warn myself about the future ex-wife. But, if I did that... I wouldn't be in Atlanta. I wouldn't have met the interesting people I have, including Angi.
My sister would never have met her husband.. and her three kids wouldn't exist.
It's a tricky one to think about.

[SolitaryWillow]

I found your blog via Duirwaigh Gallery's site. Now that the tears have disolved from my eyes after watching your movie, I feel compelled to comment on this entry.

I read this book awhile ago and it still haunts me. While I didn't have an experience such as yours, it did make me think about my life. There is a beauty in all things hidden. The real joy is in finding them.

Thank you for sharing your dream with all of us. I have bookmarked your site and plan to become a frequent visitor.

Love & Light...

[connie]

Hmmm. i think my 84-year-old self would remind me to thank my Muses when they give so abundantly. Thanks Angi: i'm an old artist friend you once sent a book to -- Angel Dominguez' gorgeous Alice in Wonderland book. It never fails to show me something new, no matter how many times i return to it. Go check your email; i sent you a couple of pictures of the consequences of your abundant ability to inspire others.
With Abundant Thanks,
Connie

[Aithbhreac]

ooo, I love the concept of considering what "practical magic" surrounds us in our present moments. Excellent thoughts!

[Imelda]

I too loved that book, but it didn't bring me into that thinking-space you got to! How powerful to feel that presence. I've done exercises (in the Artist's Way) of writing letters from my older and younger selves, but your question somehow really puts it up to me. Very well put. Thank you.

[Laini]

I really loved this book too, Angi. LOVED it. So did my husband, though he was furious at it for the sadness and it took him a while to recover. This was a nice peek into your life, you with your little doggies and your red sheets -- and a nice meditation. It doesn't happen all that often that you can get a true shift in perspective to see your life from a new angle. Very cool.

[Daisy Lupin]

What an interesting post, I, too, have had 'the time traveller's wife' sitting on my bookcase since it was published in paperback. I am going right now to dig it out and start reading it. Your post has given me a lot to think about. Thank you.

[Paris Parfait]

Lovely, thoughtful and imaginative post. I like that book too.

[Lisa]

wonderful post! one of the best books I have ever read and upcoming selection for our book club meet-up group. You also have great tastes in movies.

[megg]

wow. This was a scary post - scary in that it opened up so many questions in my world. I am going to spend some time today writing myself a letter from myself at 84 to see what comes up - thank you for the beautiful post and the afternoon of hard questions and inspiration!