Life in the Lost Lane
A collective of English Gentlemen
Tuesday, February 3

Drawn back here by new events that have unfolded with a kind of determined certainty, I've spent a little time re-reading some old posts. Amused and confused is how I would best describe my feelings. My life has changed so dramatically that it's almost like I don't recognise the old me; my old motives.
I love to write. Mostly to share with, and to amuse others, but it would be disingenuous of me not to admit that I derive satisfaction from it too. Not only the actual process, but also re-visiting my old words and imagining them as someone else's.
The notion that writing is cathartic is not original, nor is it some wonderful insight I've just struck upon, but what I composed was as important to me then, as this is now. And after reading back the words I wrote nearly six years ago, it's possible to surmise that I was an unwitting participant in something yet to come.
Consummation. A new appreciation. A startlingly clear sense of time.
So wrapped up are we, in the present. So consumed with working toward something, we fail to register our own growth.
It's often said that people don't change. I'd like to submit the idea that we all change, all the time. We are different; we are altered, from one second to the next. Every thought and every decision changes us continuously throughout our lives. It took a few minutes reflection for me to understand this, and to accept that I had made achievements where I had previously thought there were none. I'm not the same person I was then. I'm not even the same person I was when I started writing this. And neither are you.

posted by B @ 8:03 PM


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