WELCOME TO YESTERDAY

If you've seen Woody Allen's film Midnight in Paris, you’ll remember the character Gil, a disillusioned American screenwriter visiting Paris. Gil, who finds little joy in living both in his home country and in the present day, believes his life would have been far more interesting in 1920s Paris. In his idealized version of that era, he would have been surrounded by iconic figures like Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Pablo Picasso, and Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, among others who made that time in Paris legendary. The surprise twist—spoiler alert, this is the last one I’ll give away—is that Gil discovers people back then were also dissatisfied with their own time, longing, just like him, to belong to an even earlier past.

In today’s post, we will explore together the possibility of finding happiness amidst the challenges of our current era, living fully in the present, in synergy with the resources we have and in harmony with our life goals.

We often think that the difficulties we face today are too overwhelming to sustain a vision of happiness comparable to that of previous generations. We assume they lived in a less chaotic, less competitive, and less insecure world, which allowed them to feel content with their lives—quite the opposite of our current reality. In this way of thinking, living in the “wrong” time would explain our misfortunes and our inability to be happy. As if we wrote our story backwards. 




The film doesn’t just address that kind of past—the one of yesteryear. It also touches on a subtler aspect: the frustrated writer’s relationship with his fiancée, Inez, who sees him as stuck in fantasies and in a pattern of behavior that hinders both his professional growth and their relationship. Indeed, an inexcusable mistake is to persist in clinging to our past: to difficulties and conflicts that no longer exist, to personal achievements that have lost their relevance, to people and relationships that no longer make sense, and especially to a worldview and problem-solving approach that no longer serves us in the present.

The fantasy of turning back time is an allegory for a strategy we are all prone to adopt—denying our lack of control over what may threaten us. If we could know everything that might happen in advance, we’d feel more secure. The future, mysterious and surprising by definition, would be much more tolerable if it were certain and predictable. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that futuristic fiction movies often project a world of chaos and destruction, while the past is usually depicted in tales of heroism and period romances that reflect glorious times full of happy endings.

It’s not just Gil, the fictional character, who keeps his mind in the past. All of us, in our daily lives, can find ourselves in some way stuck in it. Clinging to what we once were translates into behaviors incompatible with today’s challenges, emotions misaligned with the circumstances we currently live in, and distorted ideas about ourselves, others, and the world. Indeed, trying to view the present through the lens of the past is the very definition of neurosis. Through neurosis, we cling to what we’ve already experienced—even if it’s bad moments—because these, no matter how unpleasant, are at least familiar to us. It's far less uncomfortable than having to deal with the unknown. How we handle time is a testament to how we confront our insecurities and fears. But how do we take our feet out of the past to live our time fully?

Living has never been, nor will it ever be, simple. Just as looking to the future causes us anxiety today, it wasn’t much different for past generations. “Tomorrow” always was and continues to be uncertain. Those who came before us also faced real problems, fears, doubts, and anxieties. Just like us, they didn’t know what the future held, whether they would achieve what they longed for, or how to avoid losing what they had gained. Like us, they dreamed of the comfort of finding ready-made solutions for already-known problems. And like us, they lived their time battling monsters that were nothing more than images of a no longer real time.

I’m not here to downplay the absolutely unique challenges of our time: the unprecedented climate crisis; the intense political polarization at a level never seen before; the threat of a widespread war involving entirely novel technological weaponry; pandemics and other global biological risks, among other threats. Nor, on a personal level, the doubts that beset us about our very existence: Have we made decisions we won’t regret in the future? Are we raising our children in a way that’s truly best for their future? Should we have waited longer for the right partner before getting involved with our current one? Are the cultural values I absorb by the Internet compatible with what I really desire for myself and my loved ones? It's not that we have a crystal ball to know whether the people we admire today will have a place in history. We don’t know if our choices will prove to be the best we could have made. The fact is, between one doubt and another, one danger and another, we have no choice but to keep living, facing challenges and correcting our mistakes in proportion to how they impact us. But can we learn from past mistakes to write the future in a different way?

The challenge of living today with the lessons of the past and our eyes on tomorrow is what truly expresses our human condition. How many of my patients come to the office carrying a backpack full of past problems: anxieties, regrets, resentments, concerns related to experiences already lived? And they don’t have to be aged; I see young people equally trapped by their personal histories, by wounds they haven’t allowed to heal. This doesn’t negate nostalgia or the happy memories of things that happened. It simply doesn’t justify loving the past to the point where we seek refuge in it. On the level of our individual narratives, it’s no different. We cling to our past, feeding our neurosis and distancing ourselves from the possibility of finding new solutions to new problems, staying attached to old issues, perhaps no longer existent, to worn-out feelings, and to memories that smell musty.

Living their lives with greater or lesser difficulty, those who came before us had to overcome these issues anyway. In their own way, our predecessors eventually moved forward somehow and faced their difficulties, created new paths, led their lives in the face of the unknown, fought against their own past. Many of them reached their final destination saying they were happy or had savored life according to their possibilities. They were dragged forward by the unstoppable human condition, despite the fear of living. They worked, studied, married, divorced, had children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, experienced widowhood, endured suffering, enjoyed moments of joy, faced challenges, and eventually passed away.

As much as the settings are different, today we face the same dilemmas they did: the question of who we are and where we’re going, illness, war, the unknown. Perhaps not in the exact same context, but the same will happen to us—both in our personal microcosm and in our place in history. Our saga is one of survival amidst adversity and doubt.

The key to overcoming our attachment to the past is what we call impermanence. It’s a fundamental truth of life, woven into the very fabric of our existence. Everything we experience, from the smallest moments to the greatest events, is transient. The concept of impermanence reminds us that nothing lasts forever—neither joy, nor sorrow, nor success, nor failure. It teaches us to embrace change, understanding that life is a continuous flow where each phase, each experience, will eventually pass. On the one hand, this transience allows us to appreciate the present, knowing it is fleeting. It encourages us to live fully, savoring the good moments without clinging to them, and enduring the painful moments with the certainty that they too will pass. Impermanence invites us to let go of our fears and prisons, recognizing that our struggles, worries, and even our physical bodies are not permanent elements but part of a larger, ever-changing cycle. On the other hand, impermanence can be a source of anxiety because it confronts us with the unknown, inherent in the constant changes of life now, and with the inevitable end of the things we hold dear. However, it is precisely this uncertainty and limitation of time that opens doors to possibilities and growth. By accepting impermanence, we cultivate resilience, learning to adapt and thrive amid the inconstancy of life. It teaches us to be present, to focus on what truly matters, and to find peace in the ebb and flow of existence.

Ultimately, impermanence is a reminder of our shared human experience, connecting us in the understanding that everything, whether joyful or painful, is part of a larger journey. It is by embracing this truth that we find the strength to navigate life with grace and wisdom. Impermanence also encompasses our own story. Accepting it means understanding that, whether in relation to the world’s past or our personal history, something changes within us as a way of adapting to life. And that’s a good thing.

It's possible that one day, when you're older, you'll look back and think about how many "foolish" things you did or ow many you left undone because you were too caught up in your past, missing out on the demands of the present. To avoid this, Gil makes a surprising decision at the end of the film. I won't spoil how or why, but his choice was to live in the here and now. A conscious choice to embrace the present, with all its flaws, but also with all its full potential.

Being aware that life is about crafting our story as we’re living it, in this inexplicable yet irreplaceable setting we call life—our life as it unfolds right now—is essential. We can't escape the need to learn how to navigate time as we experience it. I believe that one day, someone from a future generation will watch that movie and think, "Oh, how I wish I could have lived in the early 21st century... Life seemed so much simpler back then!"

Carpe diem.

Embrace today.








Image source: Marco_Bonfanti / iStock

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