It seems to be a popular exercise these days to ask “What would you say to your younger self?”, or a variation on that theme.
Why has this suddenly become a thing? Can it be that we are aware of getting older and have missed out on things? Or is it that we would like to have avoided some of the unpleasant things that life throws at us?
Some of the answers I have read, by celebrities who like to get their name in print, seem really inane!
As if you would listen to yourself!
Here’s where I think the question is futile and ultimately counter-productive: the delights and traumas of our life have shaped us to be who we are right now.
The presumption of the question seems to be that if you could warn your younger self not to drive too fast, not to take drugs, to be kinder and more thoughtful towards that person, you would end up a better person than you are now.
But hang on, those events shaped your reactions and you probably learnt, even if after the event, what was the sensible, productive thing to do. We all know that people, generally teenagers, are averse to doing as they’re told, so if you told your younger self not to do this, you wouldn’t listen to yourself anyway!
Being risk averse
This meme I found sums it up quite well: Good judgment comes from experience. And experience? Well that comes from poor judgment.
We learn far more from experience than we do from listening to a lecture. This is where I disagree with the trend to protect your child from anything that looks as if it could be damaging.
If you fall out of a tree and break your arm, tough bikkies. But it will teach you to be more aware of your own capabilities and the type of tree you’re climbing. Just having someone tell you is not going to be as meaningful as you actually finding out first hand.
I’m not advocating that people take risks because they’re a good learning experience, (although that’s true) but there’s an intelligent way of assessing risks and calculating how to protect yourself, without avoiding the experience altogether.
There is a story about a man who watched a butterfly struggling to emerge from the chrysalis. In trying to help it emerge, he stunted it and prevented it from developing normally. (I haven’t actually been able to find a valid scientific reference for this).
This is taking risk aversion too far!
Use the experience
I would like to flip this idea, of saying things to my younger self, on its head. Instead of going back in time, I would like to be present in the now and sprinkle the future with my past experiences, in the manner of this 17th century nun:
A (17th century nun's) prayer: (copyright unknown)
Lord thou knowest better than I know myself, that I am growing older and will someday be old. Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion. Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs. Make me thoughtful but not moody; helpful but not bossy. With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest Lord that I want a few friends at the end.
Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details; give me wings to get to the point. Seal my lips on my aches and pains. They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by. I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of others' pains, but help me to endure them with patience.
I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.
Keep me reasonably sweet. I do not want to be a Saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil. Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people. And give me, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.
Now, isn’t that a better way of looking at our experiences?
Aira Chilcott is a retired secondary school teacher with lots of science and theology under her belt. Aira is a panellist for Young Writers and indulges in reading, bushwalking, volunteering at a nature reserve and learning to play clarinet. Aira is married to Bill and they have three adult sons.
Aira Chilcott's previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/aira-chilcott.html
Aira Chilcott is a retired secondary school teacher with lots of science andtheology under her belt. Aira is an editor for PSI and indulges inreading, bushwalking and volunteering at a nature reserve. Aira’s husband Bill passed away in 2022 and she is left with three wonderful adult sons and one grandson.
Aira Chilcott's previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/aira-chilcott.html