Love the poem and I have also come to the same conclusion that ‘wallowing’ in past sorrow is only opening up the scab and not conducive to my well being
A self-inulgent sorrow selfie. Embarrassing but true*
I used to wrap myself up in nostalgia. Not happy nostalgia, like “Remember when we all wore acid-washed jeans,” but more like… hm, deep grey clouds of melancholy nostalgia. I was secretly proud of my ability to nurse a bittersweet memory. I made regret an art form, sculpting what-ifs in my head into castles of fantasy lives I’d never get to live.
These days, I’m able to see a little more clearly that things pass, and that nothing lasts, and that this is mostly okay. As Buddha suggested, I suffer less as a result.
I was recently listening to a Dharma teaching on this concept of impermanence and was struck by a particular line: “The emotions of the past are gone,” said my teacher, Mingyur Rinpoche.
When I say struck, I mean it felt like I was physically struck- spontaneous tears actually…
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