No matter how many years ago in Earth time, you may find yourself yearning for parts of your life’s past with all your heart. Alternately, there are other parts of your life that you would undo from the face of the Earth if you could. To make such choices would not be so simple as you may think it is.
Sure, you would keep the nice and exclude the hurtful, yet, in terms of life on Earth, who would you be then? You couldn’t be you. You would be someone else. Who would you be if you weren’t who you turned out to be because of the accumulation of so many others in your life and the century you live in?
If you snipped out one part of your life, how would your life survive such surgery? If you stopped the death of your beloveds for your own sake, what might that mean for your loved ones? What about their lives and their evolution?
Yet you continue to play in this field of imagination year and after year, full knowing that you can’t undo or recast the past. Those dear to you cannot come back in their bodies, nor can you remove those, as you see it, who were blights. You can miss all you miss, and you can withdraw from those you might idly wish never were. You can change yourself, yet you cannot change the minute by minute blow-by-blow aspects of your past as you lived it.
You can change your perception. You can see from a wider vision now.
Even if you could eliminate even one person from your past, how might that topple all the others? With whom would you replace the giver of heartache? Whom would you remove from your life? Where would you begin, and where would you end?
If you could relive your life under the same circumstances, could you have been other than you perceive yourself now? Would you really change the characters in your life? In theory, yes, perhaps, yet in actuality – no one else would suffice because you, as you know yourself, would be lost in the unfolding revision of your story.
Beloveds, all was right for then, the imagined then. You read a book. It was written and published. It got worn out. The library doesn’t really have it any more. It can’t be read now. It was read and reread too well. We can say it is still in the library of your mind, but the book itself and all the episodes are tattered. No one in the book of the past lives here now, for no one on Earth stays the same. Everyone grows.
You wouldn’t even know how to write a Book II. You are not the same, and all the people who made your family have dispersed. How to say this – it was always you alone. You watched a movie. You thought it was real life. None of it was true. It was happening on a screen called Life. It was a colossal movie. It ran the whole gamut of genres. From horror to children’s stories to serious fairy tales to historical films and documentaries and adventures and comedy and the imagined science-fiction. You can call it a divine comedy, although there is little you find to laugh at from the long gone years.
What is it you want when you are forlorn? Do you really want to turn the clocks back? Do you want a rerun?
You may have had a lot of grief growing up, yet how can you know what you would have missed out on? In the end, beloveds, you might keep everything in your life as you remember it, for you would keep yourself as you perceive yourself, the familiar you as you are.
I would keep you too.
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