I’ve been preoccupied with the past, my dear teacher. I dwell on old defeats, slights, and unkind words. I visualize my enemy defeated. I visualize him ended by my righteousness. I have a problem with authority and hierarchy; simply won’t kiss ass. I obsess on old sleights, disrespectful acts, the commerce of The Rich. I harbor ancient resentments. I’ve cultivated hatred to an extreme. Memories can be sacred or tormenting. Honors, achievement, sustenance via pensions and doles and the resentment thereof can perplex and cause worry, a defeatism or worse, self-pity. I am constantly seeking security and consolation. My dreams are tormenting. Always insolvable problems, specters of misery and corruption along with haughty tormentors in professorial or clerical robes. Mercifully Lust has declined but not extinguished. I must watch myself closely.
The Past is dead my son. Visiting what has been is a vain preoccupation. Your mind finds both security and safety in the past. You’ll discover torment in your search. The end of suffering is self-justification. Rumination corrupts. One cannot capture the past, contain it at last and conclude about it one way or another, even if poetically. This lesson is a powerful one on which to meditate.