It’s 12:30 a.m. on a Friday night. My dad and I lie half-conscious on the couch. I have survived another week of walking the hallways of my high school. All the awkward anxiety of my adolescent years melts away as I enter the universe of “Better Call Saul” with my binge-watching partner in crime, my father. This day — along with others like it — represents a peak experience for me: the ultimate nostalgia and happiness of my adolescent years.

Merriam-Webster defines nostalgia as “a sad pleasure experienced in what no longer exists: a wistful or sentimental yearning for a return to or the return of some real or romanticized past period or some irrevocable past condition or setting.” This meaning sounds delightful to me and captures that mystical, whimsical high that nostalgia can bring.

However, it also feels melancholic. Does nostalgia need to be “sad” and feature “yearning?” An alternate translation could be “euphoric” and “encouraging.” I do acknowledge that there’s an innately sweet sadness to nostalgia, but even then, maybe we can try to do more with our nostalgia than weep in it.

Additionally, this definition focuses on a part of the past that is irrevocable, or impossible to go back to. But perhaps nostalgia is simply our brain telling us to harness some of the conditions we were experiencing in whatever time period we are reminiscing about and bring them into the current moment. The mind is a miraculous motor, and I’d bet a pretty penny that there is some linking of the present moment to that past moment that it’s calling attention to intentionally.

Nostalgia is an enchanting phenomenon, and almost everyone has experienced it at one point or another. It is usually evocative of some intangible synchronicity of sunflowers, childlike wonder and security. It’s a certain high and bliss that few external activities or substances can offer, for it comes purely from within.

Personally, I have my most nurturing nostalgic reveries when I think about magical moments from my childhood, like playing basketball with my brother or skipping my middle school morning classes on one special day to go to IHOP with my mom.

There is also some cozy comfort and nostalgia that envelops me entirely when I think of the tough moments I overcame — killing a high school presentation despite having a pimple that was yearning to pop, or using my broken ankle as an opportunity to lock in on my academics while accepting that I could no longer play tennis.

Whether your nostalgia is good or bad, I firmly believe our brains signal a desired mindset in the present moment. If I’m feeling nostalgic about that nervous presentation that went well, maybe I ought to check out more public speaking events and become an audacious orator who captures everyone’s attention. Maybe if I think about those special memories at IHOP with my mom, my mind wants to be satiated with pancakes and family time.

Research on the psychology of nostalgia suggests it arises from feeling poorly while trying to bolster mood. An experimental study from David Newman and colleagues titled “Nostalgia and well-being in daily life: An ecological validity perspective” used a mobile app to ping subjects at random times during which they reported what they were doing and thinking. This experiment concluded that people most often have nostalgic reveries while eating or when they were with friends or family.

It’s interesting to me that these are all tasks that involve active cognition and motion in the present moment — as opposed to watching TV or sitting still. It seems reasonable to conclude that the emotional ecosystem craves feeling nurtured by something that went well in a past situation similar to the present one. Maybe that gives the person the impetus to slip into a nostalgic reverie and try to engage with others the way it went down in the memory.

Maybe you are at dinner with roommates, and you remember that time when you played the card game Exploding Kittens. You remember the person next to you who kept on bleeding his cards for you to see, and how that added to the comfort of that moment. You remember the sweet smell of lemons in the living room where it all went down. All these small details combine into a delectable nostalgic dance. So how about you bring down the cards from upstairs to ask the roomies if they want to play! Not living by the constrictions of past moments, but allowing them to further educate the present and future.

Maybe there will not be the smell of lemons, or the same person next to you tactlessly showing his cards to see this time around. But I can guarantee the most important part of the memory may still be there — the happiness and freedom from worry everyone felt. The color of the memory is lost in the small details anyway, but the general vibe is where the beauty really lies, and within you is the power to tune back into that feeling and recreate it.

Happiness, new opportunities and the ability to patch old wounds with friends and family are among the many benefits of being more tuned into what our nostalgia could be telling us. Let’s not put the moments when we were grooving with that one friend or family member on a pedestal. Instead, let them elevate the present connection and authenticity of the relationship you may have with that person today.

This isn’t to encourage you to act rigorously on every nostalgic sentiment you have. I think much of the beauty in nostalgia was that the moment was indeed of a very specific time and place. To look back on that for what it was is as enriching as a potent peach on a bright and sunny day. The more active form of nostalgia could be something to think about when an opportunity arises to bring some of that nostalgic nectar into the current moment.

Nostalgia could be a tool to propel the knowledge gained from the past into the present. Do we dare to wield it?

Jacob Lieser is a junior majoring in philosophy, politics and law.

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.