Among my biggest regrets in life is that I didn’t keep a journal of my earlier years. As a writer interested in memoir, I try to remember the person I used to be, but can only do it through the prism of the person I am today. I lack the authentic source material and end up with a book report version instead of first-hand narrative accounts.

The most frustrating thing about not having recorded my past is that I was warned by my favorite high school teacher that this would happen. In my defense, teenagers listen to teachers about as often as teachers listen to parents. Both act like they’re listening, but their only real goal is avoiding being called to the principal’s office.

This particular teacher was being genuine. He was doing that weird thing some teachers do on the last day of class where they make a show of dismissing the whole curriculum to try and have a heart-to-heart with the students.

He said that one common thread throughout history is that the vast majority of the great men and women we study and remember were writers. They either kept journals, penned editorials, wrote culture-changing novels, or maintained correspondences for decades with similarly brilliant minds.

And that the process of writing such things changes you. It makes you reflective and allows you to grow. Years later, when you look back and remember, you grow again.

I instantly recognized the truth of what he said, but not enough to put it into practice. I was lazy and made excuses. Instead of writing, I made “mental notes” that I’ve long since forgotten.

I was like the patient saying to her doctor, “I can’t quit smoking NOW, how would I handle the stress from chemotherapy?” I delayed sound advice while time ticked away and eroded large parts of the person I once was and could yet be again.

Many people think the person they are now is their highest most-evolved self, but I like to think of myself as my own past’s and future’s equal. Current Chris surrounded by Yester-Chris and Future Chris.

I don’t give extra weight to a thought or feeling just because I have it now. To do so only invalidates the feelings of Yester-Chris and I would never do that to such a trusted, loving friend.

I also recognize the impermanence of most situations and try to gain perspective accordingly. I grant no more power to the people currently in my life than I do to past acquaintances, bosses, or colleagues. I’m open to meaningful experiences, but recognize that most of what Current Chris is thinking or feeling will dissolve with time and barely be remembered by Future Chris.

Advice tends to go from the top down. People talk about what they would tell their younger self if they had an opportunity. But I’m far more interested in what my younger self would tell me. A forgotten lesson learned anew runs so much deeper than a new insight piled on top.

I’m fascinated by people who undergo radical transformations: the scruffy teenager turned military recruit, the ultra-religious Christian turned degenerate, the free-loving hippie turned corporate lawyer.

People who’ve stripped their lives of all the intangible distractions, focused on a core, and built anew – for better or for worse. How fascinating it would be to see the two interact. I’d love to watch a footrace between Bruce and Caitlyn Jenner.

Of course, there’s also something to be said for consistency. I’m just as fascinated by diehard sports fans who cling to their allegiance for life with loyalty and devotion.

I’ve seen grown men throw fits over the team logo sitting on someone else’s hat, as if it is a personal attack on them.

They speak about the team they favor with pronouns like “we” and “our;” oftentimes, they’ve associated with the team for longer than any of the current players have even been alive. In a game determined by action, ownership is determined not by participation, but by the depths of one’s devotion.

I think most adults land within the middle of the spectrum. We’re neither completely reinvented nor so rigid that we still have sports posters hanging in our bedrooms.

I worry that may be changing.

We’re just over a decade into our social media experiment. I wonder how people will react to having such long-term publicly-facing expressions of themselves. Will they erase the parts of themselves they no longer recognize? Or, will they become rigid, maintaining their associations with fierce devotion without any perception of reflection?

Unlike the diaries of our great historical figures, social media records don’t reveal the heart of who we used to be, they reveal the way we wanted to be perceived by others.

I hope our publicly-facing pasts don’t bind us to ourselves out of a prideful need to have always been right. Our greatest strength is the ability to reflect on who we were in order to modify who we are in pursuit of the who we want to be.

Is there anything sadder than a life without reflection?

I hope we find a way to use our tools to re-create a culture of introspection. It just may be our only shot to survive the Stormy weather that lies ahead.

 

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