make peace with my past

When I am no longer emotionally swayed by the memories of unfortunate events that I can not change then perhaps I can consider myself at peace with my past. But there is the peace that is born of compassionate detachment and there is the peace that is born of apathy. I strive for the former, but sometimes find myself in the latter (fortunately, that is not the usual case). I must remember to strive for the former, but in the striving, I am not at peace.

What is it that I want from being at peace with my past? When I am, I should have internalized Something about who I choose to be when I can be what I choose to be. Something about what my priorities are when the opportunity to test them comes along.

When I know those, and am sure of them, and they are unchanging because they are right and I am confident in that in ways unlike how I’ve ever been before, then, perhaps I will be at peace with my past.

In the youthful past, I engaged in experimentation, that is risks I am willing to take in the name of fun and while this resulted in me learning, I only learned more fully the futility of such things.

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity and a striving after the wind_{(that’s the text of the RSV which I wish was present on biblegateway)}

I’m not immortal. I must now tend to my health.

I’m not as desperate. I must now tend to my reputation.

I’m not as selfish. I now tend to my friends.

I’m not as independent. I now see why I should value friends.

I can not be sincere in conveying my feelings if I do not know my feelings, and I can not know my feelings unless I take the time to figure them out. This is something I do not often do, for often I act out of obligation rather than feeling. A promise matters more to me than a desire, and this can lead me to suppress passions and enjoy life far less than I perhaps ought.

There is the enjoyment of life that is rooted in carefree doing of whatever strikes one’s fancy, and there is the enjoyment of life that is rooted in the satisfaction of deep needs for great fulfillment of one’s self and others. These are different. Though I know the former, I must cling to the latter.

I’m not who I was – but I’m not who I am. Whatever I think I am, I seem to be different – when I give up, I have the strength to carry on; when I am over-ambitious, I discover it soon enough. I’m not who I am, because the me that is the present is not something that I can even surely say that I know, because when I go to act in accordance with myself, I find I do something different.

To act is to choose an action. To choose an action is to choose to not take the other actions. Thus, there is a “yes” to one action and a “no” to another action(s). To be who I choose to be – to do the actions I choose – I must be firmly able to say yes and to say no and to stick with it. It is not merely enough that I mean yes when I say yes and that I mean no when I say no – it is that I also must back up the yes and no with my actions, and display conviction in executing them.

I can’t make peace with my past if I can’t even make peace with myself. And it is in knowing myself, and holding true to myself I may perhaps live out that adage: to thine own self be true.

More clearly than anything, I see I must see the past not as that which made the past, but as my memories of it, and so must deal with them as such. This is not how I prefer to deal with such things, for by relegating them to be “just memories” they seem less sacred. They were special to me. But it is in realizing the truth – the reality that what was is not and nevermore shall be – that one can accept reality, and acceptance is a necessary part of carrying on.

I’ve made a little progress on this, but there is more to be made.

The lack of peace that I have with my past is a lack of peace that existed in the past – but a life of perfect peace would be one with no past. It is tension that makes memories vivid and with contrast – even if it is the tension between peace and non-peace.

My past is gone, but the memories of the tension within it provide tension, making me not be at peace with it.

When I am at peace with it, I will become a stranger to who I was then. Should I really become at peace with my past? This will prevent me from “knowing myself” or at least from knowing who I was – or at least from feeling who I was.

I am back from my journey, and the past I would make peace with was not there. It has moved on. I guess I should too.

My expectations encountered a reality that was so ordinary that it was beyond my imagination. I guess that’s this being an instance of “the exception that proves the rule” when it comes to “truth is stranger than fiction”, and yet not, for there was a string of bad luck in there that exceeded most other such strings, all at once.

The places were different, yet the same, and they were just places. That places are just places is something that I should know by now, I suppose, but to me, some places are sacred – but I suppose that is only to me that those places are, for my personal history is something that I suppose no one else provides santification for.

This trip wasn’t about me. It was about the past, and the future of the past. There is a future, for sure, but does the past have a future? Or is the past merely the past? The past I would have perhaps made some peace with this past trip both was and was not there, and so I both did and did not make peace with it. The past that I wanted to have a future, likely will not – and the past that I wanted to make more peace with, was not there to make peace with.

More clearly than anything, I see I must see the past not as that which made the past, but as my memories of it, and so must deal with them as such. This is not how I prefer to deal with such things, for by relegating them to be “just memories” they seem less sacred. They were special to me. I miss them, and more than anything, that’s why I’m not at peace with the past now.

Again, I am on the eve of another journey, one which will provide time for reflection, however brief, as I observe the location change as I move.

I’m not who I was even a few months ago. I have different hopes, different dreams, and a different sense of belonging. I’m going to a place that is different, yet the same, and have expectations that are similar, but different.

I’m not who I was – but I’m not who I am. Whatever I think I am, I seem to be different – when I give up, I have the strength to carry on; when I am over-ambitious, I discover it soon enough. I’m not who I am, because the me that is the present is not something that I can even surely say that I know, because when I go to act in accordance with myself, I find I do something different.

I can’t make peace with my past if I can’t even make peace with myself.

I’ve got a ways to go on this goal, but, better to understand the obstacles than to live in blind ignorance of them.

I’m not immortal. I must now tend to my health.

I’m not as desperate. I must now tend to my reputation.

I’m not as selfish. I now tend to my friends.

I’m not as independent. I now see why I should value friends.

But all of these are by slow degrees, and in none of them was I perfect. For all of my time in a place where many memories were made, I’ve failed to be who I was – a person confident, daring, and exciting – and instead, have become something tempered – age tempers my confidence, prudence tempers my daringness, and concern for others makes me a little boring.

They say nice guys finish last but I’m learning that, for the period of time when I was on the verge of not being a nice guy, it just wasn’t something I wanted to repeat. That much said, I don’t want to be too much of a nice guy but then, that’s what some of the issues in the goal of learning the difference between niceness and doormat is all about.

As fun as it is to seduce, when the other person takes it the wrong way, or otherwise when uneven unreciprocated attachments are formed, pain ensues for someone. For this part of my past, and for this part which I visited, learning about how I’ve made the step to choosing to not cause pain, even though it causes a lack of fun, is something I didn’t know if I would show myself as having learned. Apparently I did.

Or maybe it was just that the threat of punishment was greater now, as I have more at stake and greater potential “pain” for me, as it were. I don’t know.

I have to be sincere in conveying my feelings. Lust without compassion is a feeling I should be ashamed of – or at least afraid of. I’ve learned that, and I know it.

I can not be sincere in conveying my feelings if I do not know my feelings, and I can not know my feelings unless I take the time to figure them out. This is something I do not often do, for often I act out of obligation rather than feeling. A promise matters more to me than a desire, and this can lead me to suppress passions and enjoy life far less than I perhaps ought. Rejection against that was why, in this place that I visited, I enjoyed life much – for I was there with few promises and lots of desires. But this time was different.

I had more fear than desire, and I had a few promises too. I guess this is part of what it means when there are people that I care about, and when I care about my career which I’ve just begun.

I feel aged and older. Some might say more mature, but to me, it just seems different. I’m not really sure that I like it, but I know it is me, so I guess I’d better like it.

I’ve got more of my past to make peace with, but this part, I think I’ve made some peace with.

I’m going to a place that I’ve been before. Of course the place changes. And I change, but the changes in me this time are greater than any of the changes in me in previous times. I have something about myself to learn from on this trip. Something about who I choose to be when I can be what I choose to be. Something about what my priorities are when the opportunity to test them comes along. And something about what sort of risks I’m willing to take in the name of fun.

I enjoy what I’m going to be doing on this trip. I’m apprehensive, however, about what I may learn about myself in this process.

But I need to do this. To revisit the places of my past, with only feelings of pleasant nostalgia, and no pangs of regret, nor longing for what was and will not be, nor the memories of unfortunate events that I can not change – if I can do that, then I will feel like I have begun to make peace with my past.

I’ll be off this site for the next few days.

I didn’t go on my journey to make it into a pilgrimage to let go of the past. It is a past that didn’t carry on into the present in the way that I had hoped, and so it is a past that is dead to me. I’m content, for now at least, to leave it dead. Let the dead bury their dead.

But, during my journey I couldn’t leave it dead. Many reminders and questions came up prompting me to think of that past. No one meant any harm by their comments or questions, and I wasn’t afraid to deal with it, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do, and there was displeasure in having to revisit those events in my mind.

Perhaps when next I travel that way, that past can be something more detached to me than it was this time.

When I can visit the places of my past, and feel only pleasant nostalgia, and have washed myself from the pangs of regret, the longing for what was and will not be, or the memories of unfortunate events that I can not change, then I will feel like I have made peace with my past.

I’m going on a journey. Making peace with my past may occur during this journey. It may not. But I may be silent for a while. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.