Remembrance: Marcel Proust
Part #64
Moments from
“Remembrance of Things Past”
Illusion of Continuity
“For what we suppose
to be our love
or our jealousy
is never a single,
continuous
and
indivisible passion.
It is composed
of an infinity
of successive loves,
of different jealousies,
each of which is ephemeral,
although
by their uninterrupted multiplicity
they give us
the impression
of continuity,
the illusion of unity.”
― Marcel Proust
Just so, Marcel.
Just as the separate frames that constitute a reel of film conjure up a continuous reality. With this reality itself but an illusory imagining of the director, the writer, the actors.
I recall reading of a Buddhist master who, when asked about about the nature of reality, enlightenment or some such – I don’t remember the exact question – I have slept many times since then – said nothing but snuffed out a nearby candle and relit it immediately.
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