‘There is no golden past, yet we ultimately seek it.’

I read these lines in the description of the song ‘leaving home’ by Indian Ocean. I don’t know what it means, I have to confess. The reason I have quoted them here is because I find them riveting. When I first read it I thought I knew what it was talking about, but on reading them again, I realized that I needed more time to comprehend the writer’s intend behind it.

 

It’s not just about a ‘golden’ past; so do I think. It specifically IS the past. No matter how traumatic, grandiose or ordinary it is; it is a part of us and what we are. It is the chisel that has carved us, and since it was involved in the carving activity it definitely was carried out with prudence and skill. I know that I have always been the perpetrator of my life. All that I have done…my misgivings in the past, my expectations and my indignations; have not always been justified but they have enabled me to measure my thought process in ordinal terms.

 

How can I not look back on my past when that is the only permanent?  No matter how humble and deterred the beginning was its result can’t be all that bad. Retrospectively, I desperately would seek my future; presently I know not what to seek. It is not in the memories, the sweet poison of belongingness; it is in the accustomed habits that I bear.