My favorite thing about Zebra Sounds is not the opportunity it provides me to write (though I love that too), it’s the conversations that break out after I write. It’s the part where you come in and, in your comments, offer me another way to see my own words. That’s the magic of conversation (here and everywhere); as long as we’re open, it allows us to see the world from multiple points of view.
Yesterday, in response to my love story post, Rose commented that, like me, she’d never dreamed of having children. The difference is that she didn’t have any. She said, “If I think about it I feel regret that I didn’t, but I don’t really think about it that much. Life has/had other plans for me, like being that wild child you wanted to be.” She said she had few regrets about that – being the wild child – and that made me smile. I liked knowing she’d taken the path I hadn’t and had been mostly happy there.
I thought about Rose, and for a few minutes I wondered about me, about how things would be different if I’d taken that path. What if I’d traveled to all the places I now wish I’d been, fallen passionately in love only to have my heart broken in a village where no one speaks English (but everyone understands tears)? What if I’d grown used to the smell of rain forests, the sound of jungles, the feel of black sand beneath my feet? What if I’d learned to like martinis, ride a mechanical bull, argue before a judge in favor of the tree huggers, the crusaders, the do-gooders in this world? What if I’d watched fireworks looking down from a mountain peak, swam beneath a waterfall, stood up because that’s what you do when the President walks into the room?
I like the part of me that wonders. The part that feels the what if questions like sand in my shoes I should empty out. I know I could claim the rightness of my choices, plant my flag in a life without regret, but I don’t want to. I like the phantom tug of memory, the little bit of restlessness, the possibility I feel when I close my eyes and imagine for a minute that the sand beneath my feet is attached to a distant shore.
Runaway
In November 2007 I called my boss on a Friday night in the San Diego Airport. The day before he’d offered me a two year post in Southern California doing what it is I do for a living. At the time I was single, only 15 months removed a horrific divorce where I had fought to have the life I wanted with my then 4 year old daughter (Lyla aka Bug). I told my boss, thanks but no thanks. It was agreat opportunity ina great city – San Diego. But I wanted my kid more than 3 or 4 months including holidays.
reading your post I thought, if I take that gig, I don’t meet my wife and two other daughter six months later. I don’t have the life I love now.
remind me to kiss them a lot when I get home tonight.
Oh, Lance. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one has to remind you to kiss your girls a lot. ;-)
I rarely go back to those kind of what ifs… the only one I do revisit is the question of why I waited so long to get a divorce.
I love the sand in the shoe analogy, it’s a great visual. I think for me it’s about moving forward in the life I’ve chosen, accepting the choices, good or bad, and moving to make the best new choices in each moment.
It’s about that for me too. I think it’s about that for most of us.
If I’d made different choices, I’d never have had the chance to write a love story about Dillon. How can I not be ecstatic for the choices that led me there? And maybe my point in this post pertains only to me, but I wanted to say that it’s okay to wonder about different paths. It doesn’t make me ungrateful; it doesn’t mean I’d trade this life. I’m okay about wondering my what-if questions. It makes me more curious, I think, drives me to ask other people their stories, to imagine in their telling the possibilities of my own.
I love this. “What if” has been regret for me, rather than dreams and curiosity; but I think you show a different route: a way of entertaining possibilities and reflecting that is kind and bridges past – present – future in a way that I find hard when I am looking back. I am doing lots of forward”what if’s” at the moment – exploring and trying new things. Wondering. Wandering. I guess the regret won’t be so painful in the future if I believe in the choices that I make and know that I have always been open to the world. xx
Well, I do think forward what-ifs are the best kind. But yes, you absolutely got what I was trying to say here.
Being open to the world. That is my goal too.
Beautifully written. Personally, I don’t believe in regret, I feel it a waste of energy. By the same token, I don’t make myself “right” about the choices I’ve made either. Right/ wrong, win/ lose—these kinds of thoughts create an endless wheel turning. A wheel I find I have to eventually step off of to find peace. Acceptance is more the thing for me. Sometimes feeling like I’m accepting the unacceptable, but accept I must, because in truth it is what it is, it was what it was. Like marriage, I take the good with the bad, for better or for worse, and keep going. In this way I have found an embrace, a state of inclusiveness for all that has ever been in my life.
The only way I like to use the “what if” game is for the creative, coming up with new ideas, or solutions, and sometimes that includes bouncing it off past choices.
My restlessness stems not from regret, but from desire. A desire for fulfillment. And sometimes some desires, have to be let go. Sometimes having those desires pushed me to places I didn’t anticipate, and found something even better. Serendipity.
I like this: “In this way I have found an embrace, a state of inclusiveness for all that has ever been in my life.”
I agree with you completely but “regret” is one of those words that people recoil against, and I wonder if that’s necessary. If I say that I regret waiting so long to start writing, and someone answers, “Yes, but if you hadn’t waited, you’d never have gone to work at Intel, or met Chad, or had your boys. So you can’t regret the decision you made to go out and make a living instead of writing.”
I don’t think that’s true. I think I can regret that. I can feel wistful and a little envious of the 20-somethings who are writing up a storm, being taught by giants I might never know (let alone sit in a classroom with). It’s possible that it’s semantics. I’m calling it regret and they’d call it something else…
Whatever it is, I’m okay with having it, just like I’m okay with having a temper, an easily distracted mind, an overactive imagination, a tendency to blurt when I’m nervous. Not all the pieces of me have to be shiny. ;-)
I love your response. Thank you.
Ah, the “What if…”
That question has the danger of the Mirror of Erised. If I only knew then what I know now, would my life have turned out differently, better? Everyday in our chaotic journey we make a myriad of small decisions, not even true choices, which greatly affect our lives in ways we never know, the butterfly effect.
But if had a “do over” on those big moments where I knew I had a choice to be bold and act when I did not, to speak where I remained silent, would it have made a difference? In the end I am still me with all my mortal frailties, and most important – they had a choice too.
“… and most important – they had a choice too.”
Exactly. One of the nice things about being a writer, I am rewriting life all the time, exploring how the world looks when I get to make their choices for them.
I have my share if what-ifs. In this phase of my life, they’re not connected to regret the way they once were.
When I get very detailed about the what-ifs, I usually realize that I could start down an entirely new road any minute, any day–as I could have done at all those points in the path. I like that idea.
Me too. I think you just wrote my favorite quote of the week for this Friday’s list. <3
I use to ask negative ‘what if’s ?’
filled pages with them…then remembered that ” What is ” is the only place I can change.
so for me What if ? is a place to stand…and focus on positive things Now..
I have a bazzilion What if’s for today… better go make one come true…
have an amazing day
Thank you, June. You too!
Love your posts, your way of thinking is what brings me back for my dose of ZS ;) and I also love reading the conversations they create!
Right now I’m trying to focus on a life without any regrets, though they’re sometimes unavoidable. So for that reason, I’ve decided that when in doubt – I’ll just leap even if the landing isn’t clear.
I’m finding that regretting doing something is far better than the regret of not going for it when I had the chance. And like this, I actually regret far less!
Yes, my point – only made much more concisely. I think maybe it’s impossible to have a life without regret. At least for me. If I did, it would mean I’m not being honest. I’m not admitting that there’s a gypsy soul that never got to wander, a 20-something writer that didn’t have the confidence to pursue her craft, an insatiably curious woman who hasn’t met nearly enough people, seen nearly enough places, lived nearly enough life.
Yet. ;-)
I love that! “Yet.” :)
j, thank you for another gripping perspective. I feel what if as
a potential, a parallel plane; if you will permit, it comes across better
when I don’t have to type it out with my thumbs. I hope this isn’t too
long winded.
What if, “Terns”.
I like to think of us
and terns in the same thought;
the way they ping the beaches,
make little dents that wake the crabs.
The way they hover between the land’s lip of wind
and the maiden blush of the off shore breeze.
The way they stall out, full flaps
with the rushing heat that fills their skirts.
The way they view strangers and confetti and lost luggage,
as wind blown pictures across the surface of the beach.
When the terns loop the loop
the beach is erased.
They change only the little things;
how far up the beach to fly,
when to wade in the surf
and what songs to sing.
Definitely not too long. I love this.
I feel what-ifs as potential too. For me, there’s a certain tension in my wondering, my re-imagining. A sense that everything isn’t decided yet. I can definitely still decide what songs to sing…
Beautifully written, j. And me too on the last paragraph!!
Had to scroll back up and see what I said. Now I remember. That must be why we like each other so much. xo
though i don’t believe in regret i do experience it. reminiscing about the past isn’t productive either because even when i reflect on good experiences it usually brings up sadness at some point in the process or to some degree. i think that is about wanting things to be different then they are. in the past or in the present. what if i focus on the present moment? that’s usually the most insightful way to continue down a path of less regrets and seeing the truth of what all this stuff means. also helps me to see what i can do to make more of my dreams happen. the present moment wouldn’t be exactly what it is without every moment that lead up to it. so that wraps it all in to this very moment for me. wait, the moment just passed…
It makes me smile that you don’t believe in something you do experience. I agree with your very Eckhart Tolle sort of approach. What can I do right now is one of the most useful questions I ask, and I ask myself all the time. Usually to ward an impending sense of doom. ;-)
I hope your “now” is nice and sunny.
Beautiful, j.
I don’t believe in a life without regret as a concrete possibility. We only dream of a life without regrets because we have them. If, out there somewhere, there is a person that truly, actually has no regrets, the last thing on their mind is trying to avoid them. They’re just running and smiling.
It’s a nice aspiration though, that life without regrets; something to reach for, an ideal that can inform our choices a bit, perhaps minimize regrets to a degree, especially big ones.
I think it’s the mindfulness that aspiring to ‘no regret’ brings that makes a difference too. If I make a mindful choice – a truly informed choice as opposed to one that’s half-baked or short-sighted, or one that’s a choice made by avoiding a decision at all – then I can be satisfied with whatever results come out of it. I can own it, and sometimes that makes all the difference.
I don’t think a regret-free life is possible either. Unless what you’re doing is that thing that people do, where to have met you (for instance), I needed to have made every decision I made before the moment we met… and so I have no regrets because I’m really happy that I met you. It’s a lovely argument, to be honest. It’s helped me in the midst of some the hardest times in my life.
Some of my worst decisions – decisions that broke my heart and altered my life in devastating ways – were also the ones that, in the fallout, taught me the most about myself. In the end, I’m more who I want to be because of them, but I hurt a lot of people getting here. I regret that… but it’s a regret I’ll willingly (painfully, wistfully) live with.
I can’t even believe I forgot to read your post today! Perhaps it’s because I had some big news myself today but I am so happy I’ve seen it now! Thank you for the “what if” question. Even though I don’t find myself asking the question of myself very often, (if at all), I totally can appreciate Rose and your sharing. Thank you. As always Judy..thank you. xo
I got it up late, it’s not your fault. AND… I can’t believe it took me so long to get in here and reply. Gah! Bad blogger! I think it’s interesting that you don’t ask what-if questions. Perhaps that is what contentment looks like. Fly on, beautiful you.
I think that no matter what path we choose, or what path chooses us, we are going to wonder about the path not taken. Those people swimming under waterfalls and running through rain forests may wonder what it is like to sit down and have a family meal. They may wonder what it is like feel proud of their child’s achievements or perhaps what it feels like to be responsible for lives other than their own. Since every person can’t experience everything life and the world has to offer, we have to keep wondering and wanting. I believe it is healthy to see yourself outside of the life you have, it keeps a spark alive within to never settle completely and to never feel like something is out of reach. Personally, I have my sights set on that little shack on the beach, an outpost for just me, my thoughts and something to write with. A “what if” I dream of turning into a reality. Not only does it keep me excited about life, it reminds me that I do have a wildness left inside and that I won’t ever be able plant myself somewhere just because it is where I feel comfortable and needed. Great, thought provoking piece!
“I believe it is healthy to see yourself outside of the life you have, it keeps a spark alive within to never settle completely and to never feel like something is out of reach.” Exactly. I agree.
Please send me postcards from your beach shack. #itwillhappen
Like you and everyone else, I have a lot of “what if’s” that I go back to… What if my sister hadn’t died? What if I grew up with all of my brothers? And then there are the loves that were lost… ah, what if?… I do think that maybe they wouldn’t have ended up right, that they might have still been lost, but sometimes I imagine there is an alternate universe somewhere where all the what if’s live… That what the “me” in that alternative place experiences somehow translates to the me here… Guess I’m just crazy like that. Not that I don’t love who I am now, and appreciate all the stuff that has made me the man that I am, but I think that the what if gives me the opportunity to not have to stay that man… that the distant land I dream about can be the distant land I walk on… the story that I put aside years ago, can finally be written. The people I have lost can be found again. It makes me appreciate what if’s, because they are not just lost opportunities, but challenges to look for more.
I love Joanne’s little shack on the beach… mine is a frozen yogurt stand on the coast of Italy. Well, that’s one… I have some others. Who knows… Looking forward to the “what if”…
Well, apparently, not everyone has what-if questions! I love your alternate universe theory. That is wonderful. In Rabbit Hole, a boy tells Nicole Kidman that he thinks there are parallel universes in which things worked out differently. Nicole Kidman says that means there are other happier versions of them, and this is just the sad version. “I like that,” she says. I found that exchange so touching. Like reading your response here.
As I’ve written here before, and now for the 3rd time – I believe in possibility.
And that includes looking back, back at the possibilities brought to light/life by different choices made.
But that would mean a different me now, and without the beauty of the love that exists in my life now. Other beauty, other love might exist – but I wouldn’t/couldn’t trade.
Like you, J, I do regret the pain involved for other people (if I’m honest I also say I regret some of the pain I caused myself) in my becoming the me I am today. I would that I had achieved it without hurting others. But the who I was then couldn’t avoid it.
I regret that.
Yes… I regret what “the who I was then” couldn’t avoid. And… more importantly, I’m not entirely sure that’s accurate for me – that the ways in which I’ve hurt people have been unavoidable… Which means my regret is tinged with guilt and now we open a whole new can of worms. (Only we won’t. I’d have to pay you to listen to THAT j.) ;-)