Nostalgia is how we relate to the past when we reminisce on happy memories. We can also be nostalgic for difficult times if they helped shape who we are today. Sometimes, nostalgia can manifest as a sentimental longing for the past. Memories can help us feel connected, linking us to shared traditions and providing a sense of continuity in our lives. Nostalgia can be a yearning to be who we were in the past, not just for a past time and place.
It might be surprising that nostalgia, associated with homesickness or the psychic pain of longing to return home, was once considered a mental disorder. For example, in the Civil War, doctors focused on what they believed to be nostalgia's impact on soldiers – anxiety, depression, and problems with eating and sleeping. It's odd that scientists once linked the wish to be home, rather than the impact of war, to psychiatric illnesses.
Nostalgia as a reflection on our lives is not inherently positive or negative; it depends on how we look back and experience the present. Looking at the past and its happy memories can boost our well-being. When we look back at happy memories with people, we feel connected as we appreciate the relationships we have nurtured over time. Nostalgia, intentionally held, can give life meaning.
Happy memories can build resilience, curb loneliness, and foster a sense of connection and gratitude. Listening to music or watching shows from our past that are associated with good memories can evoke the feelings we initially felt when we first heard or saw them.
Nostalgia is unhelpful when it prevents us from engaging fully in the present or when the past looks like a preferred alternative to the present. Our recollection of the past is skewed because the memories we remember are selective, and we reconstruct memories as time goes by. Even when the present isn’t as bright or feels painful, nostalgia can be a hindrance that blocks us from being empowered to engage with life as it is right now, or to work towards changing our present experience.
Returning to a time when we felt full of possibilities, tried new things, took risks, and connected to others can be adaptive if it gives us a sense of continuity and helps us engage more fully in the present moment.
"If you want to know the past, look to your present. If you want to know the future, look at your present." - Gautama Buddha
The adage "you can't go home again" can mean that we cannot relive our past. It can also refer to a tendency to view our past in biased and static terms, preventing us from living fully in the present. However, when we live in the present, memories of the past can be part of a rich tapestry of life, recognizing it as flowing in the same continuous river.
Before moving from Brooklyn in 2019, my home of three decades, I was sometimes nostalgic for what the borough was like 20 years earlier. I was increasingly sensitive to the noise of constant development and, at times, felt upset that working-class and creative folks were leaving as housing became increasingly cost-prohibitive.
While my perception of the changes was accurate, my nostalgia was unhelpful because I still lived there. Only when I seriously reflected on what was most important at this stage of my life did I recognize it was time to relocate, something I couldn't have imagined before.
Now, I visit Brooklyn several times a year. It will always have a place in my heart and be a home. I traded nostalgia for a welcoming of new things in my present experience. When I visit Brooklyn now, I am delighted to find what I've always loved about it, with no desire to live there again.
I wrote this essay on a visit to dear friends in New York. After raining for nearly a week, I had two days to walk around my favorite places, the ones still evocative of home: Prospect Park, Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn Museum, the Brooklyn Waterfront, and my favorite Brooklyn neighborhoods – Carroll Gardens, Red Hook, Gowanus, and Park Slope.
On my final day, I visited a pop-up fair outside the Brooklyn Museum, where vendors displayed their crafts. I bought a jacket from a young designer from Thailand, who returns to stay with her parents in Chang Mai four months a year to produce her designs for the following season. I delighted in a block-printed shirt using natural dyes made by artisans in India; that designer also returns part of every year to her family in Rajasthan to produce her clothes.
Despite its affordability problems, Brooklyn will always draw people who want to be part of its creative energy. You hear many languages in the streets, as in the days of immigration into Ellis Island. People come and stay for a short or long while, and Brooklyn leaves its mark on them, as they leave their mark on Brooklyn.
My decision to leave Brooklyn for a new home was relatively sudden, but it percolated for several years, sometimes consciously and sometimes not. I continuously made lifestyle changes that gave me greater freedom of movement. Once I left, it took time to let go of my old home and put down roots in a new locale that better suits my spirit. I'm no longer nostalgic for Brooklyn's "good old days" as I create new memories on visits there. I still have a healthy nostalgia as I reflect on many happy moments in the place that was my home for most of my adult life.
I can't entirely agree with the adage: "You can't go home again.” Home is always there for you if you cultivate it within yourself. You can go home again because home is an internal state of welcome reflected in a physical place. And we can feel at home in multiple locations.
Home is where there are communities who share our values and where we feel welcome. As important as it is to feel at home within ourselves and to find physical places that help us to do that, it is also essential to create those spaces for others. We do that by building vibrant communities. When we commit to making welcoming, dynamic places, we strengthen our sense of belonging and home.