Rediscovering The Selves We Left Behind
December 1, 2025 | Issue #22|
Welcome to Minds In Motion, your monthly spark of thought provoking ideas, philosophy, and practical wisdom to keep you inspired and moving forward.
In this week's edition we’ll unpack:
Unboxing the 90’s — Forgotten corners and how all our stories are still living below the surface.
A brief intro to Carl Jung — Exploring the ideas of a Swiss psychologist on how our past selves quietly guide the choices we make now.
Turning to Charles Dickens — Letting the ghosts of memory remind us how the past continues to shape what we carry into December
May these words find you well, as we untangle our thoughts and explore new ideas…
“Reflect upon your present blessings — of which every man has many — not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”
Rediscovering The Selves We Left Behind
Along with the dressing and rolls on Thanksgiving, my parents brought over an old box that had been tucked away in the attic. The only clue to the forgotten decade it came from was that the faded image showing it had once held a small TV/VCR combo. After dinner and dessert, we all settled in as I opened it.
Unboxing the last of the 90s, and, unintentionally, my 15-year-old self that had been tucked away right along with it.
Now I’m sitting here writing in a spiral three-subject notebook, the front still covered in original Pokemon stickers, soft around the edges from being stuffed down into a backpack or a locker. I’m using this turquoise #2 pencil that’s less than half its original size, with a few chew marks and a gum eraser that smudges more graphite than it removes.
There’s this all too familiar sensation of holding it again, the weight, the texture the pencil writes, the smell of the notebook. It makes the years fold in on themselves, like bright sunlight reflecting off fresh fallen snow.
For a moment, when I close my eyes, it feels like I’m in two places at once. Who I was in 1999, standing on the edge of a new millennium without understanding what that meant and who I am now. I wasn’t a kid any more, but I didn’t feel like a “proper” highschooler either. I had no language back then for the awkwardness of that in-between space.
And yet here it all is again, resurfacing as I sort through what is essentially a time capsule: receipts from a 1998 trip to Universal Studios, a wrinkled blue walmart bag with the old yellow smiley face, piles of Pokemon and Scooby-Doo merch.
The memories, the smells, even the emotions that still linger onto each object—they all slightly return, like the cold that emanates from the glass panes on a window, old versions of myself I had long forgotten.
“Never underestimate the big importance of small things.”
December has always had this way of slowing time down, of nudging old memories to the surface. It could also be the rhythm of traditions, maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s simply the way the lights twinkle and dance on all the Christmas decorations. Whatever it may be, for a brief moment, it makes me feel like a kid again. Which is probably why I find myself gravitating toward the work of Matt Haig this time of year.
An author who writes so tenderly about the vast complexities of being human, especially during the seasons when we turn inward. His novel The Midnight Library feels like a winter book in its own right.
In it, every book represents a different version of a person’s life: the choices they made, the ones they didn’t, and the infinite paths in between. It’s not a story about regret so much as one about perspective. How easily we overlook the life we are already living while imaging the one we think we missed.
Touching these relics from 1999 felt like stepping into my own quiet midnight library, not in a literal sense, but in a gentle, bittersweet awareness of the many selves I’ve been. December tends to invite this kind of reflection, doesn't it?
The year ending, the lights glowing, the tradition unfolding. It’s a season filled with doorways and stories. Between past, present, memory and possibility, who we were and who we’re still growing into, no matter where we may be in our story.
Fun Take-A-Way:
Objects don’t just hold memories.
They can hold the many versions of us. The selves we once were, the selves we imagined, and the selves we’re still becoming. And in a month defined by reflection, warmth, and transition, they remind us that our story is not a single straight line but a winter constellation of moments that have quietly shaped us into who we are now.
Philosophy of the Week:
The Many Selves, an Archetype of Wholeness
Carl Jung, (1875 - 1961), the Swiss psychologist and thinker whose work still shapes modern psychology, creatively, and the language we use to understand ourselves.
Jung believed that we aren’t made of just one self, one identity, or one story. Instead, each of us holds a constellation of inner selves.
Those younger versions, forgotten versions, hopeful versions, wounded ones, curious ones, creative ones.
Not in a fragmented or chaotic way, but as different expressions of the same deeper soul.
According to Jung, these “selves” don’t disappear as we grow. They simply settle inside us, woven into our instincts, our reactions, our joys, and even those quiet longings.
This idea is called the Many Selves.
The beautiful thing about Jung’s philosophy is how easily it applies to everyday. You don’t have to mediate for hours or dive into psychology books.
You simply notice.
You let yourself remember.
You allow yourself to revisit.
You give yourself permission to show gratitude to the past versions of you who helped carry your story this far.
In a season of giving, nostalgia, holidays, tradition, and reflection, let this remind you that we’re not just who we are today, we are every version we’ve ever been.
Day2Day Survival Tip:
The 7 Rules for December…
Wear something soft. Everything feels easier in soft things.
Light one candle at night, let it stand in for all the parts of you that need warmth.
Swap one daily expectation for a daily intention, your nervous system will thank you.
Move a little slower than usual. This is the month of joy, and whispers instead of shouts.
Give yourself light, water, and a little extra care when the days get short.
If you get overwhelmed, wrap up in a blanket burrito for 60 seconds, then begin again.
Set a 5-minute Twinkle Break. Look at something that sparkles and shines. Reminds your brain that beauty is never far.
Words of Wisdom:
Charles Dickens (1812-1870) had an uncanny gift for wrapping profound human truths in the flow of candlelight and winter streets. His stories weren’t just tales; they were everything that was to be human. And one such tale is A Christmas Carol, a story that reminds us that our lives are shaped not just by what we do today, but by the memories we carry and the future we may dare to imagine.
In Dickens' world, the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come aren’t supernatural intruders, they’re mirrors. They show us the tender complexity of being human. Those moments that made us, the patterns we repeat without noticing, and the possibilities waiting just outside our doors.
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach, nor ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!”
Whether this season brings hustle, bustle, or stillness for you I hope December offers you all the moments of meaning and joy.
Thanks for reading!
Until next time,
Guthrie
