I often wonder about the possibility—and the practicality—of time travel. Not to the future, but to the past. But then I ask myself: what would I do if I were given the chance to revisit it?
For the longest time, I had no answer. It felt as though I had lived a life full of acceptance, with no lingering regrets. In my mind, I wander through different times, different moments, wondering if I would want to live them again. I revisit my favourite year. The happiest days. The occasions when I laughed the most.
But in the end, I realise that I have no desire to return.
Then I turn to the other side of the coin: the disappointments, the failures, the unfortunate events. I ask myself whether I could have done anything differently. But even there, I come to the same conclusion. These moments—along with their events and consequences—were, somehow, the best possible outcomes.
There are no coincidences. Every breath, every birth, illness, and death is either the first, middle, or final piece in a long row of dominoes. There is nothing to change. Nothing to correct.
Things happened in a way that makes perfect sense though I understand this only because I have long since passed through those moments.
And so, I realise: time travel, for me, is unnecessary. There is nothing left to feel again. Nothing I wish to unfeel. No other decision to make. Everything was, in its own way, uniquely perfect.
That is why, when I read Søren Kierkegaard’s quote “life can only be understood backwards—but it must be lived forwards,” it made perfect sense.
The past was perfect. And surely, so will be the future.
Do you like the concept of time travel? Is there anything you need to change or feel again?