Starting Over

Dear younger me, I see you now, hunched over that too-big desk in your first academic office, heart pounding after another rejection letter. You’re convinced starting over means erasing the old you, as if life were a clean page. Let me tell you what I’ve learned in the decades since: '''starting over isn’t about beginning somewhere new. It’s about seeing the ground you’ve already walked on with fresh eyes.''' Here’s what I’ve been thinking about: You spent years believing your worth was tied to your next achievement, your next title. When the job didn’t come, when the relationship ended, you saw only a void. But the philosophers called this ''katastrophē''—not a catastrophe, but a turning point. The mistake wasn’t the fall; it was thinking you’d fallen ''away'' from yourself. That time you left academia to teach in a rural school? You thought it was a failure. But it taught you that ethics isn’t in lecture halls—it’s in the quiet courage of showing up for a student who’d been told they didn’t belong. You were already enough. You just hadn’t learned to see it. You needed to hear: '''Your past isn’t a stain; it’s the soil where your next roots grow.''' That bitter divorce? It didn’t break you. It taught you how to listen without fixing, how to sit with discomfort without running. The “failure” of your first book? It showed you that wisdom isn’t about being right—it’s about being willing to be wrong, again and again. So here’s the gentle truth I wish I’d whispered to you: '''You don’t need to start over. You need to start ''seeing''.''' The same hands that built your old life can build a new one—because the foundation was always there. The courage you’re searching for? It’s already in the way you keep walking, even when the path disappears. The philosophers called this ''amor fati''—love of fate. Not passive acceptance, but the fierce, tender act of saying: ''This is where I am. And I’ll learn from it.'' But what does that actually mean for how we live? It means choosing to plant seeds in the soil you’ve already tilled. It means letting go of the myth of a “fresh start” and embracing the messy, beautiful work of becoming who you’ve always been. You were never lost. You were just waiting to see the map you’d already drawn. ''— [[goodhuman:User:Ray_Bates|Ray Bates]], still asking questions''