Echo Beach Tide Pools

"There May be an Om in a Momment..."
by Keith Alan Johnson 01-22-2000
{Lyric by Greg Lake}

I have some great memories. I've been to some fantastic conventions. I've had a number of memorable vacations, and I enjoy meeting new friends. I'd love to experience those good times again. Yet invariably when I try to recreate an old moment I am disappointed. What's worse I lose out in the long run.

The first San Diego ComiCon I attended is a fine example of what I mean. It was an incredible experience. In 1987 six of us drove from Puget Sound to San Diego in two small econo-box cars. We drove through the central California valley in 117 degree weather, the hottest I've ever experienced, and we didn't have air conditioning. We were hot, tired and sweaty most of the way... and I was having the time of my life. It was the first real road trip I'd ever been on, and I was with five other great friends.

San Diego greeted us with a laser light show as we entered the city. I guess there is a light sculpture on top of a bank building or something. A cool 70 to 80 degree breeze was blowing in off of the Pacific. After the hot valley trip it was heaven.

The Convention itself was a gathering of friends we had met through the mail. Mark's fanzine for the Elfquest fan club had generated quite a number of contacts. We spent most of the weekend either sitting in the middle of the floor in the lobby with 30 or 40 of them, sketching and drawing, or just talking. A number of us enjoyed the hotel pool. Even there we continued to plot stories. Our hotel room was crowded with visitors every evening. There was a pervasive element of creativity, either writing or drawing in the ever-present sketchbooks.

The creative energy, the synergistic flow of ideas, got so intense at times that I had to step away and take a breath. I remember stepping outside our ground floor room into night air, cool green grass under my feet. I remember looking up at a palm tree, really examining it for the first time. I realized I was in a new environment, both physically and socially. It was a magical moment that, for me, typified the entire trip.

I made a mistake the following year. On a second trip to San Diego Comicon I tried to recapture and experience the incredible week of the year before. That was a trap. Oh, I had fun on that second trip. It just wasn't the same. It was somehow less memorable. I was trying to relive the same experience I had the previous year. In the process of trying to recapture the old experience I didn't acknowledge some of the new experiences I was having. I can remember the second trip well enough, but the magical elements failed to materialize. I came away a little disappointed.

That was only one example. I tried to recapture old experiences a number of times, mostly with the same disapointing result. I now live for the new experiences. I cherish the old memories, yet I don't try to recreate those past moments. They are done. Instead I look for the new experiences every chance I get. And because I don't try to recreate the older experiences, they remain more alive, almost palpable. I can relive them every time I think about them. It's as if they happen again.

I keep my eyes open now. I don't want to miss what might happen next. Because I don't try to water down the older experiences by recreating them I've made them more vivid then they once were. And because they are so vivid they feel like a current event rather then one that happened thirteen years ago. My entire life has become one big moment in time, a collage of events, one that I add to each day.

It begs a question: How long is a moment in time... exactly?


01/22/2000

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