For most things, there really is no turning back. Most of my life has been like footsteps in wet cement. My past is part of me, whether I choose to remember it or not.
Suffering happens when I try to forget, to deny awareness of my past. Joy is in remembering.
This includes all the embarrassing things I’ve done, decisions gone wrong. It includes all my loves, all the insights, all the loss of control, all the lack of judgment. They are all there.
Common wisdom tells me that my present state of mind affects my recall of the past. I think the past events are all there, like unworn shirts forgotten in the back of my closet, waiting for discovery on an inquiring day. No longer actively worn, they are still there, in whatever shape I find them.
My today includes all my days, like a city built on the rubble of past cities.