We sometimes feel that in the grand scope of the universe, our individual experiences are insignificant when if fact quite the opposite is true.
The truth is that the minutiae of our momentary existence are all that truly exist.
Each moment is its own reality, and in each moment we die and are reborn.
Each moment is the entirety of eternity and infinity.
I was once desperately in love with a boy who didn't seem to notice that I existed at all, and each time this story played out throughout my lifetime, I interpreted his aloof gaze as his conscious judgement of me. Again and again I told myself the same harsh and condemning lies: that I was ugly and uninteresting, and that he chose to look the other way.
I recently met that boy and discovered that his failure to see the love for him that was burning inside me wasn't a judgement on me at all. He was busy telling himself his own lies about his being ugly and broken, and it was his own lies that kept him from seeing the girl standing next to him who desperately wanted him to notice her.
And so we went; round and round, dancing to the same sad and tired song, never seeing the partner who devotedly danced by our side.
When stumbling upon these surprising moments of clarity, it is tempting to let that critical voice in our minds feed us with regret for a lifetime of moments lost.