A Different Way of looking at the Past and Future

"There's something in the distance - I just can't see very well." Picture from the author's Instagram.

Saturday, 18th January: another day, another Mandarin lesson, and another concept that left me contemplating life well into the night. It turns out, I’ve been thinking of the past and future wrong this entire time. In fact, I’ve actually never really — and I mean really — thought about how the past and the future have been presented to me in English a thousand times over. Only now, after that fateful Saturday, am I starting to realize that the English saying “put the past behind you and look towards the future” makes no sense; it’s more poetic and, dare I say, romantic than it is logical.

So, how did I come to this conclusion?

Well, it all started during class when we were practicing the usage of the pattern “…de shíhòu”. Now, that phrase is essentially a time-locator, performing a similar function to “when” and “during” in English. For example, if I wanted to say, “during my childhood”, I would say wǒ xiǎo de shíhòu, literally meaning “my small time”.

Now, another two examples popped up — and remember these two, because they are what started this whole story:

1) Yǐhòu (de shíhòu) …

2) Yǐqián (de shíhòu) …

During the future, and during the past, respectively.

The thing is, as one of my classmates pointed out, the character hòu (后) denotes “behind” while the character qián (前) denotes “in front”; and, if you look back at those two sentences, you’ll start to see something rather odd.

Yǐhòu, “behind”, represents the future.

Yǐqián, “in front”, represents the past.

But wait, you might be thinking, shouldn’t it be the other way around?

Well, that is exactly the conundrum we faced because, no, they are indeed placed in the correct order (trust me, that wasn’t a misplacement on my part or a translation error on my teacher’s part). The future really is behind us and the past really is in front of us. And it left me with a single question buzzing inside my head.

How can that possibly be?

English “poetry”

You see, in English the phrase “the past is behind us and the future is ahead of us” is based purely on a timeline, an A to B linear line printed across your high school geometry paper. When I walk down a road, starting from point A, I look and move towards point B. As I do so, A falls into the past — I was there a minute ago — while B looms on the horizon — I will get there soon, hopefully.

This line of thought (pun intended) has, of course, been romanticized a lot; and I think this is due, in part, to an underlying philosophy that is especially prevalent in many Western cultures. Namely, it is the idea that our past does not define who we are and that the future holds a wealth of opportunities to better ourselves.

We have idealized the starry gaze towards the future, the gaze that wanders yonder the ocean-spanning horizon, searching, hoping, for distant lands to start anew.

And do not misunderstand me; I am not saying that this is necessarily a bad thing. It is always good to plan for the future and seek a better life than the one you currently have. Who doesn’t want that? Who wouldn’t look to the future when it always feels like it’s constantly racing toward us at break-neck speed?

But in our star-struck gaze, a lot of us tend to forget the past completely. We forget our roots and are oftentimes quick to leave them behind. Perhaps it is simply because we do not care about our past (why should we care for what has been?), or maybe it is because, in certain scenarios, we do not wish to reconcile with the past and choose, instead, to dismiss it or flee from it.

Water under a bridge, as they’d say.

The funny thing is, however, that whilst it may certainly be water under a bridge, if we’re always looking out to sea, then won’t that same current come back to bite us again?

After all, a river always flows to greet the ocean.

Chinese “logic”

As always, my Mandarin lessons come with the inevitable anecdote from my teacher. The topic at hand, no less, prompted her to ask a question: can you see the future?

The answer is obvious.

No, you can’t see the future. Well, not really — we can predict, imagine, and picture it, but to see it in its entirety, its actuality? Impossible.

I can meticulously plan out my day tomorrow and, given my success, it might proceed exactly as I picture it in my mind; but the finer details will never materialize, and it only gets less detailed the further and further into the future I try to look. If I were on a ship, gazing out to see, then the islands would only appear to me as distant smudges.

In fact, the islands may not even be islands at all; I could be hallucinating. Because the only time I can truly see the future is when it is in the present, ironically the future no longer.

And the past? What about the past?

My teacher asked if, as a historian, I could picture the past, see the past.

More so than the future, I replied.

Then it hit.

The past has already been, played out like a movie. Sure, you may miss a few details, and some mysteries are always bound to be left unsolved, but the fact of the matter is that, assuming you were paying attention, you could quite easily remember the story, cobbling it together with definite, vivid images of the reality we discern as truth.

Our own lives, I’d hope, follow this even more closely. Some memories we lose, but ultimately we are all very capable of seeing our past selves, our past story. It is like a timeline laid out in front of us, only we happen to be looking down upon it rather than up and into the future. We are, in actuality, walking backwards towards the future.

With every step we take, we can surmise what the future may hold.

Are we going up an incline?

Hmmmm, the path seems a bit rocky.

Oh look, we’re walking through a thicket now.

Etcetera.

But we can never know what truly awaits, not until we walk by, letting the scenery unfold before us as we continue our backwards stroll. The past, simply put, is knowable; the future is not. Therefore, does it not make sense that the future is, indeed, behind us, whilst the past is always in front of us, always reflecting in our eyes?

Finishing her anecdote, my teacher once again gave us a short lesson on some of the more traditional values that Chinese cultures often held. This, I think, is partly what influenced this particular way of looking at the past and future in such a manner. Generally speaking, the Chinese have a more profound connection with their past heritage and roots, more so than a large portion of Western cultures. Similarly, this connection can be found in many African cultures too; there’s a sort of respect for, and great emphasis placed on, ancestry. Most importantly, it’s a respect that doesn’t try to outdo or compete with the past but one that simply tries to live its own life to the best of its ability.

Logical poetry

None of this is to say that one way of looking at the past and future is better than the other. Both, I think, when taken out of moderation can have their drawbacks. “Western” thought can be too concerned with planning for the future. On the contrary, “Eastern” thought can get too caught up in the past to ever move forward. The key here is to have a holistic view.

I must say, I certainly like the Chinese way of looking at it. It is simply a way I never thought to view the world by, and yet I find it so… obvious. Perhaps that is because I am a historian at heart, but then again so am I a poet, a writer. The English version will always have a certain je ne sais quoi to it…

…oh wait, that’s French.

Anyway, you get the point. I love both ways of thinking — I’m currently just in the phase of being awestruck by a shiny new pearl. The ultimate takeaway that I mulled over, however, is that there is certainly room for a middle ground, a need for logical poetry if you will.

The Chinese way calls for a slow walk backwards, a journey whereupon you take your time to peacefully observe the past and reflect upon it. The English way, meanwhile, brings the excitement of new prospects, of boundless opportunities and freedoms. But both ways of thinking seem to forget one thing. Between “put the past behind you; look towards the future” and “look deep into the past; do not fret too much for the future” there is something missing.

The present.

People often live for either the past or the future. Seldom do we make room to feel the very moments we inhabit, to enjoy the time we are actually alive for. We are so concerned with our past we fear it like we would a rabid beast breathing down our backs, constantly nagging at our minds; and we try to run from it, never looking back, always with our eyes locked on the future in a perpetual race that compels us to forget our good friend; the present, loyal and forever by our side, is easily forgotten beneath the sound of our rushing footsteps.

Sometimes we simply think too much and feel too little.

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