Sitting on the bus, on my way into Manhattan, the song Sun Models by Odesza came on. This got me feeling nostalgic. The corners of my lips couldn’t help but curl. Odesza always has this euphoric quality, but that wasn’t why I was grinning like an idiot on a stormy, gray day on a bus filled with people who’d rather be elsewhere (anywhere with sun at this point, I assume).
I was smiling like an idiot because just 10 years ago, I was listening to the same wonderful song while walking to the 125th street 1 train stop a block away from my room. It was a room the equivalent of Harry Potter’s room at the Dursley’s. Except my closet had a closet. Even then, I was on my way to midtown, in chinos and a button up, something I had sworn oto change after leaving that job just a year and a half later. I got my wish being hired at an agency. Although, I still somehow pushed the boundaries there. But that’s Stamford for you.
My smile on the bus today was a cocktail of reverence for time and even a hint of veiled sadness. Not sadness at the passing of time but sad that I often forget the beauty in the passing of it.
Rather than revel in a moment of presence and acceptance, in typical fashion, I started to think about how much had changed between then and now. But because I’m imperfect and tend to lean toward critique, I leaned toward what hadn’t changed. So, I asked myself questions I shouldn’t at 8am on a packed bus. Questions like:
- “What did I want to be?”
- “Why didn’t I do that one thing?”
- “Have I arrived to wherever I thought I would?”
- “Have I written that book?”
The list goes on and on.
- ”Did I lose myself?”
There it is. The dagger hidden beneath my critic’s sleeve trying to alter the course of my day. And the audacity to attempt it in the middle of Sun Models.
But before I could get in my feelings I remembered something. The truth is, I’m unrecognizably myself.
What I mean by that is, the past version of me listening to sun models aboard the 1 train to midtown would only think he knew this present version of me listening to sun models, on nj transit… to midtown. And it’s because of this surface level knowledge that I think he’d be disappointed.
“We’re still doing this? You haven’t built an app yet? What happened to producing music? Are you still in a button up? Jesus Christ, man.”
But while the child walks and does not know why, the wise intends to take each step.
Ultimately, I can smile because life is long for those who are lucky enough. And I am already lucky enough. Like the smile of a parent looking at their child after their simple, but direct observation, I can look at my past self and think, without need for explanation or debate, “You have no idea what it took to be here today.”
A reminder for myself and anyone who sees their past and wonders about their present… be kind to yourselves, because the past you has no idea what it took to be where you are today. Chances are, you’re doing just fine.