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“Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; our God is merciful. The LORD protects the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return, O my soul, to your rest, for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.” –– Psalm 116:5-7
I have been reading a novel by Matt Haig, The Midnight Library, in which the author transports a depressed, self-hating Millennial to a fantastical library where she is prompted to act on her regrets and explore the variety of alternate life paths her life would taken her if she had made different choices along the way. As a test drive, she enters these lives real time without knowing a significant portion of the backstory, sort of like being thrust onto stage as the main character in the second act of the play without having read the script. In one life she finds herself on Arctic ice fending off a polar bear as a glaciologist on a research expedition. Only, she doesn’t know anything about glaciology other than what as a child she read in a National Geographic magazine.
In another life she is being beckoned back to the stage by 20,000 screaming, chanting fans as the lead of a globally embraced rock group that in her other life she gave up on during the garage band stage. Aside from the terror, she’s admittedly pumped by the adoration and the obvious perks of rock stardom. “It was better than being in Bedford, sitting on the 77 bus, humming sad tunes to the window.” Yet, during a late-night interview, she is confronted with the realization that every life carries the luggage of complexity. The podcaster probes the personal –– “You’ve had so much … to deal with these last few years. Stalkers, bad managers, the fake feuds, the court case, the copyright issues, the messy break-up with [heartthrob actor], the reception of the last album, rehab, that incident in Toronto … personal tragedy, drama, drama, drama.” She asked herself –– “Is this what fame was like? Like a permanent bittersweet cocktail of worship and assault … It was like being slapped and kissed at the same time.”
Were you the child in the driveway, throwing up the dream of an epochal jump shot as the imaginary buzzer bellows? Were you the youth thrashing the air guitar, assuming no one sees you, but imagining you are the icon strumming the Les Paul Deluxe at the center of the cavernous sold-out arena? Are you trapped by the resentment that you weren’t discovered, that your talent wasn’t appreciated? Are you the person who cannot be present to the present because you suffer the illusion that your value is limited to past glory days? Are you the wistfully exhausted professional daydreaming idealized images of your regrets, the paths not chosen, the greener grass you are sure you would have grasped … if only?
Dwelling on regrets robs the potential of the present. Was it Camus who said, “If something is going to happen to me, I want to be there.” Or, as Ferris philosophized, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Don’t let the life you thought you wanted rob you of the life you have. Very often, if not most often, it’s not the spectacular but the simple that grants us peace, joy, the awareness of being loved. Don’t get me wrong, I can enjoy a swanky hotel and opening a box of new running shoes, but lasting joy is the product of simple kindnesses, relaxed fellowship and friendship, a good music playlist, a shared task, a page-turning book, a good movie or a captivating sunset, and someone to share them with. I can think of no greater joy than sitting around a table for a meal with Donna, Noah and Emily, Seth and Liza. The setting and the menu are secondary. There are any number of simple things that stir your spirit with gladness. The simplest joys are typically the best. So, don’t give regrets the time they tend to steal from your now.
“Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; our God is merciful. The LORD protects the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return, O my soul, to your rest, for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.”
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