The value of your past selves
At the conclusion of Whit Stillman’s The Last Days of Disco (1998), Des McGrath (Chris Eigeman) vows to turn over a new leaf. His plan is to flee New York for Spain and avoid testifying in the tax fraud case against the owner of the disco club he co-managed, leaving it all behind. Turning to his friend, he considers the following:
“Do you know that Shakespearean admonition ‘To thine own self be true’? It’s premised on the idea that ‘thine own self’ is pretty good, being true to which is commendable. But what if ‘thine own self’ is not so good? What if it’s pretty bad? Would it be better, in that case, not to be true to ‘thine own self’? See? That’s my situation.”
In his attempt to flee the country, Des recognizes that he is staying true to himself—he’s aware of his faults. Is there not still merit in that? “Thine own self” does not need to be a model for perfect values and conduct in order for you to stay true to it. Can you not stay true to yourself in making poor decisions, as well as good decisions?
Hopefully we’re not all not running away from lawsuits, but there is a similar compulsion at the start of a new year to turn over a new leaf, or maybe several new leaves. We make resolutions and we hope for change. These resolutions are representative of the positive improvements we hope to see in our lives. For many, the new year presents an opportunity to put our mistakes of the past year behind us and move on. But I want the faults of my past selves to stay with me. Remembering who I was helps me to understand who I am now.
Who can say what “thine own self” truly is when it’s constantly evolving? And the only way I know how to grow is by learning from my past. I generally make the same resolution each year—to record and to remember my experiences through writing. For years, I kept consistent and detailed journals so that I could look back: on all the moments of comfort and hurt, to remember the words that were spoken, to recognize who I was, and how it felt to be that person. I haven’t been as disciplined with this as I used to be, but I still try to make note of certain moments and feelings.
In “On Keeping a Notebook” (1960), Joan Didion writes “I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.” Would I be friends with my 17-year-old self? Definitely not. But she’s a part of me, and I’m still quite fond of her.
My past selves are like old friends. We’ve been through it all together. I don’t see them very often anymore, but when I do visit them through the words I wrote, they offer reassurance. There’s a certain kind of insight that can only be gained from the people I used to be. Looking towards a singular “thine own self” right now, in this moment of your life, is not always going to give you a definitively correct answer. The people you once were, however, can sometimes help you out when you need them.
We’re inevitably going to make mistakes; not every decision will seem like the right one. Reflecting on the people we used to be is how we can grow and resolve to better ourselves. Forget about reinvention in 2019. I encourage you to hold onto all of it, don’t leave anything behind. To thine own selves be true, whoever they may be.
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