Meditations on the past and present

The power of nostalgia and the call of the present

Sep 11, 2021

Hello friends,

When I was younger, my family lived in a house with a massive split-leaf philodendron in the front yard. The elephantine leaves crowded together to form a shrub-like appearance, but the space beneath the leaves was hollow. The thick stems stood bare, notches marking where older leaves fell.

As a child, I used the philodendron hollow as my own private hiding spot. I’d crawl beneath the leaves and find a cozy place to rest. It was like a miniature forest, with the sunlight shining through the mass of green. Everything became cool and dim and secret. When I was there, I existed in another universe. I entered a portal unknown to the rest of the world, a place where I could be alone without feeling lonely.

I wish I’d listened to all the adults in my life who told me to enjoy my youth. But that’s a general human flaw, isn’t it? We never appreciate what we have until we lose it. When I was younger, I didn’t have multiple sclerosis. I didn’t worry about being financially independent. The news had no bearing on my happiness. Social media did not yet exist. When I was younger, the possibilities were endless. I suppose those possibilities still exist, but they’re buried beneath logic and rationality.

As a child, I longed for the day I’d finally be a grown-up. When I realized I’d finally made it to that milestone, all I wanted was to be a child again. My whole life, really, I’ve ignored the present in favor of that shimmering dream of the future. I told myself that things would get better when I went to middle school, to high school, to college, to the real world. I’d be happy once I got a degree, a job. I was never the problem. The problem was everything around me. Except we all know that isn’t true.

For the first time in my life, I’m meditating every day. I currently have a ninety-eight-day streak on Headspace. Meditating finally feels like a true habit. I’d be lying if I said it was a cure-all, but it has changed the way I think about things. I’m trying to be present more, to appreciate the real things happening in my life instead of wishing for a future that may or may not come. I am here, now, and every experience is a new one.

Nostalgia is a tricky thing. Do we really want to go back to the past, or do we just want to recapture those feelings? When I was alone in my secret philodendron forest, I felt invincible. But I still had to come inside for dinner. I had no financial responsibilities, but I didn’t have much disposable income either. When we’re longing for the past or the future, we lose our grasp on the present. One day, though, this will all be behind us. The pandemic and the politics and all the other stress-inducers. We will tell our children and grandchildren about the great toilet paper shortage of 2020, and we’ll laugh. We don’t need to wait for that time to come, though. We can still laugh today.

What are you laughing about? What helps you stay present? Let me know.