a message to a younger me
I found myself standing today at a confluence of reflective moments. One of these was my continuing exploration of old lists, and the idea I found there, an old one that might well have found its way onto my list via an episode of Start Trek: The Next Generation.
Another is just the passage of time and the reflection on what might have been versus what was. I recognize that the was cannot be changed, but there is still, still the glimmer of the if only that I can’t entirely put to rest.
And so now, the what. If I had the opportunity to write a letter to the younger me, that they could read at 15 or 18 or 21, what would I say? And yes, I’ve read enough science fiction to recognize that the pollution of the time line becomes a problem at this point, and I’m going to ignore that entirely.
I’ve never sat down to write such a letter, but it is an interesting exercise to sit in a quiet room, perhaps in front of a fire if the night is cold, perhaps with a glass of wine, and speculate on what such a letter might contain.
One realization that might hit first is that I don’t remember those days of my life all that well in their detail. I have an inventory of particular moments that I’ve carried with me, but I don’t know whether that inventory contains those events that affected the course of my days, to where I am now. There are some that looking back, I would take a different path, and others where I might not. And it may be that my change might be less events than application and approach.
Beyond this, though, is the deeper lesson. Each day, we are different than we were the day before and we are different than we will be the day after. Each day, we can change our direction of travel.
This can become difficult as we get older, as we become set in our ways, as the accumulated detritus of our days hinders change. And this for me is the lesson from this quiet contemplation. This is the mountain we climb.
multijimbo 