I hope I never succumb to the ever-present lure of nostalgia—that constant pining for a better and more ideal time in the past that we not only revisit too frequently, but perhaps also amplify into something that it never really was.
This desire for nostalgia in our culture is strong and promoted heavily in mass media (from shows/films like Happy Days and American Graffiti in one generation, to That ’70s Show and Dazed & Confused in another… or hundreds of other examples I could cite). And of course, it is displayed prominently on social media too. Groups form on Facebook based on high school (hell, even elementary school) graduation classes, music scenes of a bygone era, or growing up in certain eras. “Remember when?” they all seem to say. Post after post, comment after comment, image after image—all seem to ruminate upon and bask in the joys of an era long gone.
So maybe this shunning of nostalgia, which seems deeply ingrained in my psyche, stems from the fact that I have always been somewhat of an outsider in life. I never really fit into any collectives—be it school, the music scenes I have played in, my journey of recovery, or even the art world in which I had some level of success. I have always tried to forge my own path.
And while there is a simultaneous exaltation of that individualism (particularly when I have succeeded by doing something very different from what is currently popular), it is also coupled with the loneliness of occasionally realizing you don’t fit in, or the awareness that others are finding momentary happiness and a sense of belonging in the collective you feel separate from.
That realization gives one pause to consider the power of group identity. Nostalgia becomes infused with this group identity: one identifies not only with a certain collective, but also with the point in time when that collective thrived—be it your senior year of high school or college when life was a non-stop party, or the years that the music scene you loved reigned supreme, or perhaps a year you personally triumphed and had both youth and physical beauty on your side.
I understand (and am not exempt from) that power—I feel it most personally when I listen to the Punk and Post-Punk music of the late ’70s and early ’80s. Although most of it still sounds utterly contemporary to me, it is hard not to put these songs & albums in the context of being a young man discovering the power of music for the first time, sensing the revolutionary spirit of Post/Punk music which was casting off the shackles of Rock’s previous generations and excesses, and empowering a new generation of creators… and I was one of them.
I also think another (culturally ingrained) factor in this “anti-nostalgia” mindset I have is that perhaps my generation (the forgotten one sometimes called “Generation Jones”), between Baby Boomers and Gen X) was the last one taught the path of rugged individualism. Since then, the collectivist mindset seems to have been pounded into each successive generation after mine. I could be wrong, but this thought has crossed my mind in recent years—that somehow the power of the collective is overtaking the individualistic mindset. And this seems to be by design.
But most importantly—when I look back on my youthful years—I remember how unhappy I was, how frustrated I was, how unreachable my goals seemed (and how unfocused my goals were too). I sadly recall how much addictive and destructive behavior I engaged in to mask my fears and inadequacies.
It has only been in recent years that I have felt truly happy, fulfilled, and able to look back upon the past, not with the rosy glow of nostalgie, but with the sobering glance of factual observation (and perhaps the lens of maturity and psychological evaluation too).
I don’t want to bask in the glories of 2012 or 2017 (which were both years of triumph and high-water attainment for me) or especially “the Good Old Days” (where I could fit myself into a “scene,” a historical era, and reflect upon some personal victories). I want to rise to the challenge of the current year, the current time, the current zeitgeist. I want to create new glories, experience them in the moment, and then discard them onto the heap of history.
Nostalgia, to me, is a deception that takes one out of the present moment—where all creativity, joy, and love exists.
So I hope I continue to be anti-nostalgic while still learning from the past (as well as my past). And despite the recent cataclysmic shifts that have irrevocably altered the world in which we live, I hope to continue to stay positive, creative, reflective, and aware of the fact that, in the end, we all end up on the scrap heap of history and have no control over the lens of future nostalgia.
I mean, what was the line in that godawful Carly Simon song? “These are the good old days.” Indeed they are…