Last one.
A lot of people believe that first impressions count the most, while for me, it’s the last ones, because they leave us with a final echo of reflection. Not knowing when the last time for something is has its charm, but at the same time, gives us a false sense that there actually will be a next time. When we’re young(er) and full of bravado, we usually don’t even consider these things – the world is young along with us and there is always a tomorrow. Over the years, that cements us into living in a disjointed way – we’re constantly projecting our minds into our tomorrows and yesterdays. But our bodies know it’s not where we actually are.
(Our bodies know how to converse with us, we just usually don’t know how to listen. Being mentally disconnected from the present forces our bodies to talk back in the form of anxiety, fear, depression and stress. It feels uncomfortable, because it’s the body’s way of telling us we are doing something it isn’t built for. Let’s not kid ourselves that it’s trainable like a muscle: getting used to feeling un-easy is not a thing, nor it should be. In any type of society.)
We’ve probably all heard how thinking that every day is our last day, is a good thing. For most of my life, I understood it as a morbid idea, but I’ve recently learned to see it as what it really is – a tool, to help us anchor ourselves to the present; a tool, to help us hear the echoes. I’ve come to see that treating everything as a last impression, makes me attempt to do better. So you know, this is the last blog. Until it maybe isn’t.
...at least until I come back from my holidays.