I’ve been thinking about what it means to look back.
Historically I’ve claimed to be “anti-nostalgia,” undoubtedly a half-baked placeholder for investigating how I actually feel. A better way to explain it would probably be…aware of the slipperiness that comes from letting myself stew in what’s regressive or anecdotal. Or to borrow a line: An unwillingness to at times be on “nodding terms” with the unattractive bits of who I used to be (and/or perhaps still recognize).
Or: There’s a packet of very old gas station pistachios in my glove box—essentially a relic—that I sometimes will eat in a moment of desperation, or boredom, or both. I’m not saying I like them! But I’ll likely never throw the pack out until I sell the car and am forced to empty out all its chaotic compartments filled with crumpled napkins and pennies and gum wrappers and chopsticks because you never know. Anyway!
The pistachios to say, there are those things you use because they are there. Maybe it’s stale food or maybe it’s something actually harmful or regressive or just a straight-up crutch that’s worth examining and discarding.
I realize that’s not fair to the purposefully retrospective. And like a true original, I inevitably take stock at the end of each year just like you. Notes on achievements and failed experiments; an optimistically outlined master plan for what’s ahead. Roses, thorns, etc.
And lately I’ve been thinking that it’s actually pretty nice to look back on what I wrote this time last year, and the year before that, and realize that the lists—of what to want, or reminders of priority or progress, or observations of where I’ve fallen short—has pretty much stayed the same.
I like the awareness that I’m not just throwing darts into the ether, or trying on new identities, or needing order to stack chronologically. I wrote down, “is this what it means to have values?” and I’m embarrassed by how that sounds like beatitudinal drivel but I guess what I’m saying is that taking stock isn’t just a measuring stick. Looking back can be a reminder of what is constant and actually meaningful. A realization that sometimes you don’t need to “come back” or find yourself because you’re right there, and have been all along.
Before this gets too dumb, here are 5 timely prompts on thinking retrospectively, not regressively as the year concludes:
What is one question that you found yourself asking over and over again this year? (And is there a version of an answer?)
What was one of the moments you were proud of this year? (And does it say anything about how you should spend energy/time/money in the year ahead?)
Recall a good weekend.
Who or what enriched you? (Could be: a person, a source of education or inspiration, an experience, etc.)
Remember that you’re telling a story of your making…carefully choose something to leave out.