The past is gone forever
The crazy realization I had after reading my journals
I usually start a journal at the beginning of a new chapter of my life. Moving to Australia. Moving to Berkeley. Moving to New York. You get the idea.
I also love re-reading them, often times when I’m going through some inner turmoil, just to see what I used to think and write about.
So, that’s what I did yesterday. And a thought that had been looming in my mind made itself extremely loud.
“Damn. This feels so far away. This person seems like a totally different person than who I am now. Our lives are so different. All of that is… gone.”
And so it hit me.
The past is gone. Forever.
It’s only been two years, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Same goes for my year in Berkeley. Heck, even the person I used to be while starting a company, which ended six months ago, is a stranger to me.
This might be oh-so obvious — I’ve been bathing in topics surrounding mindfulness, being present, and so forth, yet I never saw it that way.
Whether I made the most out of any of those experiences or not, they have vanished and will not come back.
So, what now?
I’ve never been the nostalgic type, so this didn’t cause me to dwell in that sense.
What I do though, is anticipate a lot.
When I was in Melbourne, I was already planning on where to go next.
That ended up being Sydney, where I spent my last months in organizing my departure to Berkeley.
Beyond that, in my notebooks, I was describing relationships that will never be the same. Cheeringly talking about friends who are no longer friends. Old-time friends I don’t get to see anymore. Love affairs that have since evolved.
Although I don’t regret anything, this made me understand with all the cells of my body the importance of being present.
If I don’t make sure I am, I guess it means I’ll be missing out on my own life.
