Regrets are the vaccinations protecting us from the idiotic choices we might have made if we hadn’t already gotten a sampling of how bad it would be if we succombed to our innate dumbness.
Paying attention to our regrets is just another marker of learning. For example, I still regret not taking art classes in high school. I thought I had to take all the “hard” classes to get ready for college.
I regret telling the truth a few times when it would have been much kinder to keep my mouth shut, but I learned some painful lessons about empathy. Actually, I regret telling the truth much more often than I regret telling a lie because I’ve learned that telling a lie to be kind is socially acceptable.
I think it’s fairly accurate that a person is more likely to regret not doing something than to regret doing something. Most of my regrets fall into the category of not doing something because I was too timid or too busy or too concerned about what other people might think. Those episodes of not doing something I wish I had done are significant influences on the kind of person I have become.
One of the great advantages of living several decades is that the number of regrets diminishes. When I hit 50, I felt so much more empowered to be and to do what felt best for me and to be much less concerned about what others expected of me. Another advantage of age is that the regrets of youth either melt away or there has been time and opportunity to rectify the damage.
Regrets can be debilitating like the cat who won’t sit on a stove after being burned one time. The cat over-learned its lesson because it never sits on a cool stove, either.
Living with no regrets is like cooking with no spice, a black dress with no jewelry, a swing set with no child. Such an existence is safe, solid, predictable, and pointless.
Remember the short play, “Waiting for Godot”? Worst play ever. Godot never shows up and everyone, including the audience, suspends their lives out of some insane idea they have to wait for whatever is supposed to happen. Don’t wait for stuff to happen. Make it happen. If you mess up, regrets will shore you up for a much fuller and vibrant life.
Remember the song, “Anticipation,” by Carole King? Anticipation is a trap. It’s passive. It spoils the actual experience which is inevitably tainted by its unrealistic anticipation.
I still have time to take piano lessons. To do some drawing and painting. To explore and to learn. What I don’t have time for is the anticipation of doing and being. Actually doing and being is the only way to go.
“Regrets, I’ve had a few. But then again, too few to mention.” There’s a song for everything.
