Looking back [ Regret/memories/ self-searching]

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'Red', the character played by Morgan Freeman in The Shawshank Redemption addresses the parole board long into his sentence for a murder he committed when he was a very young man. He says he'd like to talk to his younger self, to explain how life works and about consequences. Of course, it's too late. Time, unless you drive a tricked-out Delorean and your name is Marty McFly, can't be messed with. Or what about Gatsby? He has lost five years but wants to remove it and begin from scratch. Impossible!
I used to think I was Gatsby. Eternally optimistic but with a dark side best left alone. I once 'had the gats' for sure. Partied and entertained as much as I could. Loved it in fact. Watched music move in light waves towards me as I danced on a mantlepiece in a typically out-sized Georgian house. Shared a vineyard with friends. Dressed as a Blues Brother in south central Madrid. A life without consequences.
And then the realisation that actually... I was Nick Carraway. Gatsby's sidekick. I wasn't a central character even in my own life. And I'd love to talk to me as a slow- developing, green, insecure kid in the city. I'd like to warn him. And laugh with him.
I'd warn him about time. The more birthdays you celebrate, the sooner you'll celebrate another one. Time speeds up exponentially. Einstein couldn't explain it away. I'd like to warn younger me to never hesitate. Don't think twice. Certainly never overthink. Do it now. Life will accelerate so fast that the long finger becomes the boney digit of an incapable skeleton.

Tristan Jones wrote about sailing in uncharted waters, "If in danger or in doubt, hoist the sails and f@@k off out." I think my younger self could have used this as a mantra. Relationships and places back then sometimes hurt. Of course it's all part of growing up, and hurt is good, right? Still, when I think of the dark days that might have been avoided.
I'd really like to have a beer with the blonde, unwrinkled me and instill confidence and acceptance. Maybe I wouldn't have wasted calendars looking for acknowledgement or 'my place' in life? Who knows? Maybe instead I could have been me? The me of today? I'm happy in my irreverence. Don't mind if you need me or not. Happy in my own skin and company. God how I've changed!
What might have been different? Nothing I hope, for now (as Sinead O'Connor said), 'I do not want what I haven't got.' I am blessed. But maybe the paths to now might have been different. More exhilarating? I should have stayed in touch more and conversely let some people go sooner. Kissed that girl in The Dockers pub some more. Said 'no' more often. Done more than write love letters.I could have pushed myself. Truck driver? Royal Marine? Carpenter? Cyclist? Lived north or south of centre. Said goodbye sooner. Who knows? Of course I regret wasting my time with love that crashed and burned but it's my own fault I didn't see through it or force better outcomes. I was once world champion at the blame game. Approaching the half century makes me aware that life did nothing to me that I wasn't in collusion with. Fifty years will also remind me that I'm mortal.
I wish I could instill in the younger me that I'll bounce, physically and mentally. Push more. Hurt more. Try everything more. You'll bounce!
It's useless. I can't go back there. Life teaches us lessons as we go forward. We learn nothing standing still except how to repeat mistakes. A grotesque groundhog day. I wouldn't want to be anywhere in my formative years again. Except for the highs of course. I'm happy where I am.... It's just, well, I'd like the energy. I wasted it thirty years ago lying awake worrying about inconsequential nonsense. Now I'm surrounded by more love than I ever countenanced and wish I had a starburst of energy to return it.

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