I am currently reading The spoiled cupa fantasy detective novel.
Think “Sherlock Holmes set in Westeros.”
The main character has this enhancement that allows him to absorb every detail of every interaction and crime scene and repeat those exact details at a later time.
I remember a gruesome one Black mirror episode about exactly this: being able to remember every fact from every past interaction.
The point is: in all of these scenarios, the facts may be true, but the analysis of these facts still leaves a lot of room for improvement.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently when I came across two stories I want to share:
“The past is not true” from Derek Sivers:
When I was 17, I drove recklessly and crashed into an oncoming car. I found out that I had broken the other driver’s spine, and she will never walk again.
I carried that burden with me everywhere, and felt so terrible about it for so many years that at the age of 35, I decided to find this woman to apologize. I found her name and address, went to her house, knocked on the door and a middle-aged woman opened it. As soon as I said, “I’m the teenager who ran into your car and broke your spine eighteen years ago,” I started sobbing—a big, ugly cry that brought back years of regret.
She was so sweet and hugged me and said, ‘Oh darling, darling! Don’t worry. I’m doing well!” Then she walked with me to her living room. Walked.
It turns out I had misunderstood.
Yes, she broke a few vertebrae, but it never stopped her from walking. She said “that little accident” helped her pay more attention to her fitness, and she has been in better health than ever since.
Than she apologized for causing the accident in the first place. Sorry.
And this story about “the good old days” from author Morgan Housel:
A few months ago I was reminiscing with my wife about how great life was in our early twenties. We were 23, gainfully employed and living in our version of the Taj Mahal. This was before kids, so we would sleep in until 10am on the weekends, go for walks, have brunch, nap, and go out to dinner. That was our life. For years.
“That was a great life, as good as it gets,” I told her.
“What are you talking about?” she said. “You were more anxious, scared and probably more depressed than ever.”
…In my head I look back today and think, “I must have been so happy then. Those were my best years.”
But in reality, at the time I thought, “I can’t wait for these years to be over.”
It has made me think a lot about the past and our future. It turns out neither is set in stone!
What past story can you rewrite?
As the cliché goes, it’s easier to connect the dots looking back than looking forward.
Is there a story from your past about a particular moment that you still carry with you?
Maybe it’s a feeling of shame about something that happened, but it led to something even better for you.
Perhaps it longs for a past life that never actually existed.
The past has already happened, but that doesn’t mean it’s set in stone!
Returning to Sivers:
“You can change your history.
The actual actual events are such a small part of that. Everything else is perspective, open to reinterpretation.
The past is never finished.”
I’d like to know what story you tell yourself about the past, good or bad, that you decide to rewrite?
-Steve
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