Your Tiny Rearview Mirror

Let’s talk about your rearview mirror. Yes, that rearview mirror. The one in your mind, not the one in your car (though the metaphor holds up surprisingly well). For many of us, especially those who’ve navigated some bumpy emotional roads, that mental mirror can be…oversized. Gargantuan, even. It’s like driving down the highway of life with your gaze glued to the past, the present a mere blur in your peripheral vision.

The past happened. I get it. Those potholes, those detours, those near-collisions – they’re part of your story. They taught you (often the hard way). To pretend they didn’t exist would be…well, a bit like trying to drive with your eyes closed. Not recommended.

But, you know, that rearview mirror can be tiny for a reason, for it’s not meant to be the main event. It’s a tool for occasional glances, for learning from past mistakes, for acknowledging where you’ve been. It’s not meant to be a permanent cinema or a weekend Netflix binge.

Gently consider this: how much energy do you spend re-litigating old arguments, re-hashing past hurts, re-constituting the very moments you wish had been different? 

Your fear, those self-protective strategies you’ve honed to a razor’s edge – they’re often rooted in that rearview mirror. They’re based on past experiences, past traumas, past perceived threats. They were brilliant survival mechanisms then. 

But are they still serving you now? Or are they keeping you stuck in a perpetual state of “better safe than sorry,” missing out on the joy, the connection, the sheer aliveness that’s waiting for you just past the next rest stop?

So imagine shrinking that rearview mirror. Make it comically small. Picture it as a little postage stamp, a quick reference point, not a full-blown IMAX experience. Now, shift your gaze. Focus on the road ahead. Notice the sunlight glinting on the trees. Feel the wind through the window. Turn up the tunes.

The past doesn’t disappear. It’s still there, available for reflection, for learning, for integration. You can visit there. Just don’t live there. How will you notice the magenta flowers of purple loosestrife, reaching and bending towards the sun along the road?

You are not the sum total of your past experiences. You are the magnificent, ever-evolving being who navigated those experiences. Your hands are on the wheel now. Now your hands are on the wheel! Here’s a moment for a horrendous cliche. Ready for it?

Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and enjoy the journey. 

Lord, I’ve been told so many versions of this cliche. Please. 

Of course I’d love you to enjoy and not to worry. But sometimes you will worry. I know I do. 

So maybe, instead, I’ll offer this: you get to choose where you look. How about that? You will always have a chance to re-direct your focus. It’s just a simple, little meditation. Focus. Lose focus. (That’s ok). Re-focus. 

Take a peek in that tiny rearview mirror if you must. Acknowledge the journey. Honor the lessons. And then, for the love of all that is sunny and windy and magenta, turn your gaze forward. The windshield cinema is about to premiere an Oscar winner. And you, my friend, are in the front row.