MAY 22 — We all have a room in our minds where the past lives.
Some call it memory, others call it baggage. It’s filled with faded moments — some precious, some painful. The successes we revisit for confidence. The failures we replay, often far too much. And while that room can hold valuable lessons, it’s not where we’re meant to live.
The trouble begins when we start hanging up curtains in that room. Rearranging the furniture. Calling it home.
There’s a line I often reflect on: Treat the past as a separate room you can visit, but don’t live there. Because the truth is, the past has no power over us — unless we give it the keys.
Now, this doesn’t mean we ignore history or pretend our scars don’t exist. Quite the opposite. Sometimes, we need to visit that room — to gather something we left behind: a truth we missed, a lesson we skipped, even a version of ourselves we forgot. But we go there with intention, not attachment. We visit, we retrieve, and we leave. We do not unpack our bags.
Take Khalid ibn al-Walid, for instance. One of the greatest military minds of the early Islamic world. But it didn’t start that way. He was once among Islam’s fiercest opponents — he fought against the Prophet Muhammad in the Battle of Uhud. Yet later, he embraced the faith and went on to become one of its most legendary commanders, earning the title Saifullah — the Sword of God.
Imagine if he had stayed in that other room — chained by guilt, regret, or public shame. Imagine if he let his past dictate his future. History would have remembered a different man altogether. But Khalid chose otherwise. He didn’t live in the past. He took what he needed — his strategic mind, his discipline, his drive — and redirected it toward something greater. His legacy wasn’t in his mistakes, but in his transformation.
And that’s the key. The past is a reference point, not a residence. If we linger too long, it becomes a trap — one lined with stress, self-pity, and procrastination. “If only I had…” “I should have…” “Back then, I was better…” Sound familiar? These thoughts are heavy. They slow us down. And before long, we find ourselves stuck — not moving forward, just spinning in place.
Even science, in its pursuit of truth, doesn’t get stuck. It corrects itself. Moves on.
The author says the past is a place to visit, not a place to live. Pick up the lesson — then keep walking. — Unsplash pic
Remember Pluto?
Once declared the ninth planet of our solar system, Pluto had its planetary status revoked in 2006. People were up in arms — students rewrote their science notes, astronomers debated passionately, and some of us felt genuinely betrayed. But here’s the thing: science didn’t dwell on the emotional fallout. It adjusted. Recalibrated. Moved forward. And in 2023, new discoveries and reclassifications reopened the conversation, with some even suggesting Pluto might deserve its planetary badge again.
The takeaway? Even knowledge evolves. What we once believed may no longer hold. And what seemed discarded might find new relevance down the line. But the process never stops. It keeps moving. So should we.
This same spirit echoes in The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Amir, the novel’s protagonist, spends years haunted by a childhood betrayal. His guilt eats away at his adult life, colouring his decisions, clouding his joy. It’s only when he returns to Afghanistan — revisiting the past with the goal of righting a wrong — that he finds redemption. He didn’t go back to wallow; he went back to repair. And that made all the difference.
The point is not to cut ourselves from our histories. The point is to know when to leave the room. The past has value, but it has no vote. It may inform us, but it cannot define us — unless we let it.
So if you’re still replaying an old failure, still quoting an old version of yourself, still measuring your progress against a time that no longer exists — pause. Ask yourself: what exactly am I holding on to? And more importantly, is it helping me move forward?
You see, there’s really only one way to live life: going forward.
Progress doesn’t require perfection. It only asks that we keep walking. And if you must look back, do so with gratitude or clarity—not attachment. Visit the past with purpose. Pick up what you need. Close the door behind you. And then, face forward.
Because that’s where life happens.
*Nahrizul Adib Kadri is a professor of biomedical engineering at the Faculty of Engineering, and the Principal of Ibnu Sina Residential College, Universiti Malaya. He may be reached at [email protected]
**This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
