The pilgrimage place, Muktinath, is a place of cleansing, a place of washing away misdeeds of the past. I do see the value of intelligence of this idea: complete the past, look at what we’ve done, possibly learn from it, and start fresh. That’s good.
I see all of that and value it, but for me, when I am conscious enough, I see the past is the past. The past, a story, remembered and retold in our minds, is not the real past. It’s not what really happened, rather an interpretation of what happened, shaped and re-designed for some purpose that we may never understand. So the past, whatever it was, whatever I did or didn’t do, is gone. I did what I did. It’s not that I wouldn’t want to be completely free of the grip of the past, I don’t see how someone else can take care of it for me, man, priest, or the gods.
All I can see is the full acceptance of who and what I am, that shreds both the past and leaves me in the present.