What’s past is prologue

The past can be a dangerous place to play
a dangerous place to run
a dangerous place to visit
a dangerous place to bring a friend.

The process of the product.  The road behind the vista.
That part of the iceberg that stays hidden beneath the frigid waters.

I don’t think about my past because I miss it.  I don’t write about my past because I wish I were there. I think about the past while I’m basking in the beauty of the present.

I think about the past when I’m basking in the perfection of the product that is my life today.
I think about the past when I’m hollering my gratitude to the universe for the vista I have.
I think about the past when I’m washing the dishes and you ask what I’m giggling about.

I love my past, and the stories it’s given me.  The gratitude it’s forced me to have, to think about the life I no longer live.  The happiness it gives me, to know that I’ve never stopped improving.  The characteristics it’s imbedded into my personality.  The knowledge I’ve been given, through the mistakes and the failures, and the lessons and the success.

To ignore the past, and the discomforts it could provide, would be to exist unconsciously, every day.