C'est la Vie

C'est la vie.  Literally translated, it means "that is the life."  Perhaps more comparable would be "thus is life."  That's all we can say, really: thus is life/c'est la vie.  Do you ever catch yourself thinking about the fond memories of the past?  And it feels like you can just reach your hand through the surreal and fuzzy surface to get back to that past?  It feels so accessible, especially when you dream about it.  

But it's gone.  It is so difficult to grasp that fact that I wonder how many of us have really done so.  I think that during the best times of our lives, life feels like true reality.  Life feels... real.  And there is nothing more real than the moment you are experiencing.  Then there are the moments between these realities.  They feel so dreamlike.  It feels like you're just dreaming some horrid dream and you'll wake up to what is really reality in a few moments.  But as time passes, you realize that that's not the case.

Then those amazing moments of "reality" start to fade in your memory.  They get fuzzy.  You wonder if they even happened.  Then, they too, become somewhat of a dream.  The present moment feels like a dream.  The past feels like a jumble of dreams.  What doesn't feel like a dream, anymore?  Dreams don't.  The dreams that you get in when you sleep.  They feel more like reality than anything else during your waking hours.  In fact, I'm wondering if I'm actually typing a blog in the real world as I type this, right now.  

All I really want is to find reality again.  And to dismiss the past as a dream long gone that is unreachable, even unfathomable.  I want the past to become diminished, like the pasts of our childhoods - of little consequence.  In the words of Bono, "You've got to leave it behind."  Then, maybe, I can find some reality again.  It's rough, but thus is life.  C'est la vie.