Η Επιστροφή - The Return (2011) - Part 1 – Αναχώρηση (Departure)

Αναχώρηση - Departure
 

Greece is behind me. In the past. I have left. I have departed.
I am sad to leave as I found my peace and recharged my batteries there. I thought a lot, I found a lot and left a lot behind me.

Leaving a lot behind me is the essence of departure. The act of leaving somewhere, someone, something, to go somewhere else... Maybe a circular journey, maybe linear.

The destination that follows a departure is somewhat irrelevant. There will be an arrival somewhere, because a departure necessitates an arrival. To this extent it brings a re-birth as one starts the next part anew.

But what we leave behind comes with us. The letter once written then burned in the flame of the candle, remains written. Just the proof of it no longer exists.

The wake of the water behind my ferry boat from Patras to Ancona reminded me of that. There is - for a few minutes at least - a trail that marks where the boat has been. But a few minutes after that the sea closes over and there is no evidence that the boat has been there. It has departed, but it has been there. There is memory of its presence once.

That trail of broken water continually follows the boat. There is continuous departure and continuous but ephemeral evidence, destined to fade - but the truth of its passing as indelible as time.

My departure from Greece has left me with more cargo to carry in my memory, my heart & my soul. That cargo comes with me to my arrival. And in some ways all arrivals henceforth will be marked or defined in some small way with the cargo taken at departure.

Life is a constant acquisition of cargo. While we think we leave some things behind - like the wake of the boat in the sea - we have simply mislaid the evidence. The physical proof. The real essence of the cargo remains with us, imprinted upon us indelibly and forever.

So my sadness at what I leave behind is tempered by a calm knowledge that I have in fact left nothing behind. It is all with me. Every thought, every sensation, every moment. Its physicality less important than its essence. Or in Platonic terms, the idea more important somehow than the form.

Of course Plato's ideas were by definition the ultimate abstract and my memories, experiences and sensations all have a dimension of reality. But in the same way we could never touch the "idea" of a table, only the "form" of a table - in its many expressions - neither can we concretely experience the events of our memory - or indeed re-experience our memories. They become abstracted somehow, to exist in eternity thereafter.

Interestingly, this is not unique to the person remembering. The events of our memory are events which existed in time and context and therefore exist independently of us. They exist for other people as well as independently of all people. In a prism of time and place. It does not require any one single person to experience something to validate the existence of that event – although it may appear to be so.

So my departure was not a part only of me, but a part of others also. And all departures are thus. As are all arrivals.

Whether my road takes me back the same way or not, it will in a sense be a linear journey no matter what - as are life and time. While the same places and people may feature again, it will by definition be new and fresh when I "arrive", the memory of the departure providing context but not prescribing the future.

And for this reason I love arrivals as much as I love departure. Because I love the future. I love that departure leads to arrival. Arrival in the future with our memories as our cargo.

What better journey could one ever make?