Childhood sees the World illustrated.
— Gaston Bachelard —
Well, I made it out to Long Island, NY.
I stayed in East Hampton, made a stop in Sagaponack and mostly spent time in Montauk. By the time you read this, I’ll be making my way out of Long Island, headed a ways north and back to the place I’ll call home for the summer.
My mind is swirling with a mix of emotions, as I oscillate between missing North Carolina (the place and my people) and returning to my beloved home state of New York. Already, I’m feeling a little bit of reverse culture shock. How is it that everything can feel deeply familiar and yet wildly foreign?
I can’t help but think about Gaston Bachelard’s concept of once-upon-a-time, or autrefois.
The great once-upon-a-time (autrefois) which we relive by dreaming in our memories of childhood is precisely the world of the first time.
—Gaston Bachelard
The great once-upon-a-time. The world of the first time. The autrefois, or the formerly.
All of our living, then, is a watching of the present world through the lens of the past. For, the world of the first time is when our filter is first colored in. In childhood, we watch the world for the first time, seeing and saving it (into our minds) in all its technicolor brilliance. Without even realizing it, our childhood becomes a fixed point of reference—a pin on a map, of which we are always longing for and looking back to. Always reaching for in our remembering, our rêveries.
I thought about this while looking out from the Montauk Point Lighthouse and while watching my boys play in the sandy shore just outside Gosman's Dock. When I think back to my childhood, I replay memories that look similar to these moments I’m making in the present. I’m seeing my kids splash in the water and also seeing myself splash in the water. In fact, I’m seeing every kid splash in the water.
There is something innate, inherent about the great once-upon-a-time. Like we carry a collective fondness for all our yesterdays. Why, then, are we always warned by the world not to travel in time, returning to our records of the past, all those good and hard? Is the great once-upon-a-time an antiquated fairytale, a memory we hold hostage, impossible to grasp though forever we grope for?
In Montauk, I couldn’t help but think about the great once-upon-a-time of the land and the people who once occupied it. Does the land carry memories of the world of the first time, too? Of simpler times. Days gone by. Yesteryear.
What was Long Island in its original illustration? Its original childhood colors, as Bachelard would say. What was the place and who were the people of Long Island before it was colonized and washed of all its original color?
These wonderings stir questions of pining and impossible ache. Yet, still, there is this one hope that comes with every once-upon-a-time:
Once is the proclamation that there ever existed a certain time and place. Once is the promise that we can remember such a time and place. . . perhaps, even, return.
Once-upon-a-time is not an obsolete picture of the past; it is an audacious painting of all that once was—and very much still might be possible.
All,
Rachel
Music to meditate.
In light of the Montauk Point Lighthouse, here is “Bring The Light” by Büşra Kayıkçı.
“I started composing this piece at the beginning of the pandemic last year, when the whole situation was very ambiguous and cloudy. There is a long gap from its beginning to its completion and a melancholic atmosphere to it reflecting those uncertain feelings about the future. But throughout the different lockdowns, I discovered that this silence and loneliness is actually bringing me lots of new melodies. I became very productive, because I had a chance to experience insight and clearness. Ultimately, the piece carries a silver lining mirroring not only the motive that completed it but also the idea behind its title ‘Bring The Light’. To me, making music was and is a way of bringing light to dark moments.”
—Büşra Kayıkçı
Curiosity to contemplate.
I love lighthouses, and had fun learning about the Montauk Point Lighthouse. If you’re curious, read up on some Montauk history.
Prompt to ponder.
Where or what is your once-upon-a-time? Where and to whom were you born? Are you still in the place of your origin? Have you moved? Do you miss it, or do you long to escape it? Are your earliest childhood memories good or hard or somewhere in-between? Do tell.
Newsletter changes.
I’ve made some major changes around here. If you missed the updates, check out the “Notes” section in last week’s letter, The Matter of Memories.
DESK HOURS
Meet me in the comments.
Fridays at 10-11 a.m. ET
If you enjoy The Fallow Letter, you can support my work by becoming a paid subscriber. You can also purpose, read, and review my books, Let There Be Art and The Matter of Little Losses. Please share this newsletter with a friend.
Thank you Rach. The “Once Upon a Time” of Eden keeps me going⚓️. Have a beautiful summer.
There are some recorded memories but many more override it of some really bad hard things of having two mentally ill divorced parents. Growing up poor and isolated. So childhood memory fondness escapes me to some extent. I remember nature and savor aspects of what I can. In the same way it can color childhood differently than seems fair. So there's a fight to be fair and find goodness to remember.