When I was younger, I was prone to looking back.
It’s not a good habit to get into.
It’s like keeping your eye on the rearview mirror, whilst driving.
You miss so much…
… not to mention how dangerous it is.
It’s different from keeping an eye on where we’re going.
But we still need to be aware of driving the vehicle.
Regardless of how habitual it is to identify with my past and the possibilities of my future, I know it’s my mind playing with itself.
I’m fully aware I’m not just my past.
I’m fully aware I’m not where I’m heading, too, yet there’s a part of me that loves to cling to what isn’t.
A part of me loves to relive memories, saying, “This is what happened to me… this is who I was, back then.”
I am my past and yet I am not my past.
It is still very much a part of me; that is, it is the story I tell people when they ask: “Who are you?”
I can look back and be swept off my feet by nostalgia’s beauty.
It can feel more magical than the present.
How can something that isn’t there fill me with more joy than where the magic takes place?
Quite simply, it can’t, and doesn’t.
It just seems to fill me with more joy because it gives me a break from a chain of unproductive thoughts.
That’s why, when we hear this is all there is, we may feel a sense of disappointment.
“I thought there was more.”
Then we’re not seeing this for what this really is.
To identify with history so the history-making process gets pushed aside for the history it’s already created, is a mistake I’m sure we all make.
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