The Here and Now
A Letter to the Remembrance of Things Past
Dear Ghosts of Relationships Past,
I never really got the word “ex”—it always sounded so final in its permanence, like etching something in stone and walking away forever. How in one moment, two or more people can be together and the next, the room becomes full of silence of echoes of what we think “was” when nothing really has changed, just the label we attached it to.
I never used it for you because what we were never fully ended; it transmuted. Perhaps it still can, but that depends on where we choose to stand. If we have cared for each other, we still do; what changes is the form.
When we live in the past, it’s usually because we haven’t asked why. If we’re to remain in each other’s lives, we have to accept that our friendship has evolved. We may want things to stay the same, to return as they were, but that won’t happen in the way we imagine. It won’t snap back to exactly what it was before—that’s the point, the beauty in it. Wanting things to stay the same is human—but staying stuck leaves us with preemptive disappointment.
People get trapped in this scarcity mindset, and so we are taught to grip what was instead of meeting what could be, always looking back and missing what we think we’ve lost. Yet relationships don’t vanish; our connections shift and change right along with us, evolving as we do.
Pain repeats when we choose it. Everything is a choice. If you hold on too tight to what we used to be, it stops us from seeing what we could turn into, now. But truthfully, people aren’t possessions; things to own—they’re no birds for cages. We forget the good by gripping the hurt. Everything we build together wants to grow, evolve into something entirely different from what it once was.
Labels don’t name us; presence does. The outside noise people turn to…can’t always fix an inner lens. Getting to know yourself via meditation, honest reflection, and simple practice can help us see what’s really happening.
Until we turn inward, face the pain head-on, face what happened, and face where life goes from here, we’ll keep clinging to “what was.” The ache screams loud and the missing space between us screams even louder, but nothing precious is lost when it’s allowed to change.
The closeness we crave is not only physical; it’s deeper, it’s the mental, unjudging knowing—a spiritual recognition; knowing each other from the inside out. I know who you are; you know who I am. That hasn’t gone anywhere; it’s still right here. Whether we’re doing something or not—it didn’t matter—you just wanted to know that I was ‘there’.
We’re not back there right now—we’re here, and we can still meet here. Let’s end the loop and be here together, make new memories in the here and now.
The universe keeps offering fresh perspectives; new ways to understand. It doesn’t mean the feelings need to change. Nothing has changed about our care; what must change is how we interact, how we meet up—that has to evolve. If our conversation turns to put-downs or personal attacks, we’ll pause and resume later.
Think of it as training the way you do your body: drills to sharpen attention, reps to build presence. That matrix of illusions, the traps we place in our head—they won’t win, not as long as we’re grounded in the here and now.
Mindfulness builds the muscle of focus. Everyone needs it. We can practice together or apart.
For example, we would grab a cup of coffee, and every single sip, you would use a technique called mindfulness to practice living in the present, where you drink it. Sip the coffee like it’s the first cup, every little taste hitting as if it was your first time ever experiencing it, like the mind of a young person. Pause for a second, breathe deep, smell the roses or whatever’s around.
Here’s the simple fact: we can’t live in the present while living in the past. Wherever we are, let’s place attention there—not “we used to,” but “we are.” Make new things, new memories, new experiences—be in them, not thinking in your mind that we used to do this or that. We can’t be missing something if we’re actually doing it. We need to make an active effort to change and move our focus from the past into the present.
You’re not losing anything by stepping out of the past; you’re gaining the present, all of it. When we’re out together, be there with me. We can build whatever comes next, not keep patching up what was. If we can show up in the present, we begin. If we choose the past, we stall—that’s a choice—but I won’t live there. This is both the offer and the boundary I’m setting: grow with me as I will with you, or let me go with some kindness. Either way, I wish us peace and a future we can stand inside.
We are not our pain; it is a signal, not an enemy. It can color the room without becoming the walls. If we feel sore, it means something is trying to heal. It is asking for change from what was to what is. Ghosts still knock sometimes—ghosts of relationships past, whispering what-ifs. Call it a modern-day Scrooge story: we’re all visited by the what-was and the what-could-be. But the only place where we can touch tomorrow and turn it into a memory worth keeping is in the present.
We can choose a language that doesn’t put either of us in a cage. We each own our minds and feelings—we can hold each other to the same standard. We can retire the word “ex” and replace it with what changed.
If you meet me here, we begin.