I am currently reading The contaminated cupa fantasy detective novel.
Think “Sherlock Holmes set in Westeros.”
The main character has this augmentation that allows him to absorb every detail of every interaction, crime scene, and then recite those exact details at a later date.
I remember a horrible black mirror episode about this very thing: being able to remember every fact from every interaction in the past.
Here’s the thing: 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 thought about this a lot recently when I came across two stories I want to share:
“The past is not true“by Derek Sivers:
When I was 17, I was driving recklessly and crashed into an oncoming car. I found out I broke the other driver’s spine and she will never walk again.
I carried that burden with me everywhere and felt so bad about it for so many years that at age 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 answered. As soon as I said, “I’m the teenager who crashed into your car eighteen years ago and broke your spine,” I started sobbing—a big, ugly cry that emerged from years of regret.
She was very sweet and hugged me saying, “Oh darling, darling! Don’t worry. I’m fine!” Then he walked me to his living room. He walked.
Turns out I had misunderstood.
Yes, he fractured a couple of vertebrae, but that never stopped him from walking. She said “that little accident” helped her pay more attention to her physical condition and since then she has been in better health than ever.
So she apologized for causing the accident in the first place. He apologized.
and this story about “the good old days” from author Morgan Housel:
A few months ago I reminded my wife how wonderful life was when we were in our early 20s. We were 23 years old, gainfully employed, and living in our version of the Taj Mahal. This was before kids, so we slept until 10am on the weekends, went for walks, had lunch, took a nap, and went out to dinner. That was our life. For years.
“That was the best life, the best there is,” I told him.
“What are you talking about?” she said. “At that moment you were more anxious, scared and probably depressed than ever.”
…Today in my head I look back and think: “I must have been very happy then. “Those were my best years.”
But actually, at that moment I was thinking, “I can’t wait for these years to be over.”
It makes me think a lot about the past and our future. It turns out neither of those are set in stone!
What past history can you rewrite?
As the cliché goes, it’s easier to connect the dots looking backward than forward.
Is there a story from your past about a particular moment that you still carry with you?
Maybe you’re filled with shame over something that happened, but that led to something even better for you.
Maybe it’s longing for a past life that never really existed.
The past is gone, but that doesn’t mean it’s written in stone!
Returning to Sivers:
“You can change your story.
Real events are a small part of it. Everything else is perspective, open to reinterpretation.
The past never ends.”
I’d love to know what story you’re telling yourself about the past, good or bad, that you’re deciding to rewrite.
-Steve
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