When I was in junior college, there were a few classmates that I couldn't stand. There was a guy who was pretty boastful (though his academic results were mediocre), and I really couldn't stand talking to him. But now on Facebook, when I see a photo of him playing with his kid, it was pretty heartwarming. I actually felt happy for him. Maybe I was wrong about him in the past, he was not that a**hole that I had imagined him to be? I wish him well in his family life.
Or imagine someone was told that he has just one more month to live. Why does he still care about the small things that used to bother him? He should be spending whatever time he has left to work on his bucket list (list of things to do before he kick the bucket).
Time will not always heal wounds. Unless you have amnesia, it is hard to forget things that used to matter to us. However with new perspectives gained, and newer events that supercede past experience, the past doesn't seem so bad after all, and the future can be made better.
You stop hating.
You stop envying others.
And you start appreciating this very moment.
You give the benefit of the doubt.
Because who are you to judge?
Why impose your thinking on other people?
Why lead people's life for them?
What makes you so sure that you are not just being biased?
And are you sure you are NEVER wrong?
Why make life difficult for others... when you can make life easy for everyone?
The person you used to hate... why do you still hate him?
The comet that will wipe out the earth... it's not as if you can stop it.
Seeing your friends leave the world one by one... you just have to queue in line and wait for your turn.
Why does it matter anymore?
I love talking to my Grandma. She has this aura of warmth and calm, and I know that alot of things doesn't matter to her anymore. She doesn't worry about cash (even though she's poor), and she doesn't get upset as much. She listens alot to the stories we have to share. She is contented just to be alive, and place great emphasis on her child and grandchildren's wellbeing.
Someday we will all grow old and be spectators, not commentators.