The Trailhead #13
The Cost of Looking Back And the Risk of Looking Too Far Ahead
We’re living in an age of persistent unease. Anxiety is no longer confined to isolated moments. It’s become ambient, present in the background of everyday life. News cycles accelerate our sense that the world is changing faster than we can process it, social media encourages constant comparison, and tech conditions us to anticipate what comes next before we have fully absorbed what is happening now.
We constantly replay decisions, imagine alternate outcomes, and simulate possible futures. We ask ourselves:
What if I had done that differently?
What if something goes wrong tomorrow?
What if everything changes?
Looking back fuels regret and looking too far ahead fuels anxiety. Both fixations rob us of the present, the only place where peace and happiness actually exist. These questions, and the emotional weight they carry, are part of what inspired THE TOWPATH. In the novel, the past is not merely remembered. It becomes an active force, something characters attempt to approach, influence, even alter. But as the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly clear that revisiting the past is not a neutral act. It changes those who pursue it.
The Redeemer embodies this truth. Her mission is deeply human: she wants her daughter back. Her refusal to accept the finality of loss drives her across boundaries most would never dare cross. Yet the closer she moves toward the past, the more the pursuit reshapes her. Her fixation consumes her identity, narrowing her world until only one outcome feels acceptable—regardless of the cost.
Gil Stanford follows a similar path. His pursuit of unresolved questions leads him deeper into psychological isolation, demonstrating how obsession with unfinished narratives can erode one’s sense of stability and self.
Both characters reveal something uncomfortable: the past doesn’t always yield to our desire to revise it. Sometimes the past changes us more than we change it. Against this backdrop stands Aaron, whose stepfather teaches him an entirely different way of engaging with the world: to observe, notice, see what others overlook, and remain present long enough for patterns to emerge. It’s not some mystical ability. It is simply the discipline of attention. Aaron learns that clarity doesn’t come from forcing answers, but from allowing the present moment to reveal what’s already there.
Libby Jaite embodies another form of presence. Her instinct isn’t to overanalyze or simulate every possible outcome. Instead, she immerses herself in the physical world, often hiking through the Cuyahoga Valley without the constant interruption of devices or notifications. Time in nature has been shown repeatedly to reduce stress and improve emotional well-being, but beyond the science, it reconnects us to scale and perspective. The natural world operates without urgency, reminding us that not every question must be answered immediately, and not every uncertainty must be resolved today. Libby’s confidence isn’t accidental, it’s rooted in experience, physical reality, and direct engagement with the environment around her. She’s grounded because she’s present.
Stories about time travel often appear to be about the mechanics of bending time, but beneath the surface, they’re often meditations on responsibility, grief, and acceptance. They explore what happens when we attempt to exert control over forces that may ultimately resist it. They ask us to consider whether revisiting the past would truly bring peace, or whether it might deepen the very wounds we hope to heal.
A recent press release explores why these themes appear to be resonating right now, at a moment when many people feel pulled simultaneously backward and forward, struggling to locate stability in the present. Perhaps the enduring appeal of these stories lies not in the fantasy of changing time, but in the quiet recognition that peace may come from learning when not to. Sometimes the past is not waiting to be fixed. Instead, it’s waiting to be understood, and sometimes the greatest act of courage is allowing the present moment to be enough.
If you're interested in exploring these ideas further, you can read the full press release and learn more about THE TOWPATH.
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