Did I Just Change the Past?

What if the past only exists because I keep thinking about it?

Two big questions. Let me try to explain my thoughts about the past.

When I remember something…painful, joyful, or just plain weird…it feels real.

I might even have a photo of it. Proof, right?

But where is that event now?

Not a year ago, not last month… I mean… r i g h t now?

I might say, “Well, it happened, and I can still feel it. It’s in my memory.”

But notice: I’m feeling it now. I’m thinking about it now.

Even the photo I’m holding? I’m seeing it now.

A second ago, it was just a forgotten image in a drawer.

Only when I looked at it did it come to life, here, in this moment.

This is the present moment’s great illusion: we think we’re looking at “the past,” but we’re actually remembering something, assigning it meaning, and experiencing it all… right now.

A Course in Miracles says it simply:

“The only wholly true thought one can hold about the past is that it is not here.”

It’s gone.

Unless I carry it with me.

And the way I carry it , with love, regret, resentment, or compassion, is always my choice. Right now.

That’s why the present is powerful. It’s not just a point in time; it’s the canvas where all my experiences are being repainted. Even the ones I thought were set in stone.

Quantum physics offers a strange echo of this idea.

In experiments with light particles (photons), observing a particle now seems to determine how it behaved then.

It’s called retrocausality, and it bends our usual ideas of cause and effect.

(Jodi posted something about this earlier, her message sparked this reflection.)

If this sounds like science fiction, you’re not alone.

But what if both science and spirit are pointing to the same truth?

That nothing is locked in the past.

That even your deepest wound is open to reinterpretation.

That forgiveness doesn’t just free you, it rewrites the narrative entirely.

Because the past isn’t “back there.”

It’s a thought you’re having… now.

And just like any thought, it can be changed.

Not by fighting it. But by seeing it through the lens of love.

So next time I hear myself say, “But it did happen,” I pause and ask:

Who is saying that now? And what am I choosing to believe… in this holy instant?

The miracle isn’t in bending time or playing with photons.

The miracle is that I can always choose again.

And in that choice, the past is undone.

With love and light,

G.