Sep 7, 2006

To Touch The Intangible

There are times when I'm faced with regrets. These are common feelings in our human experience, yet some of the most difficult to assuage. The reason for regret may be evolutionary pressures favoring altruism as a means for species survival, or it may simply be a question of spiritual evolution, of which I do prescribe despite being a self-proclaimed corporeal rationalist. Religion has certainly staked its claim in this question as evidenced through rituals of sin forgiveness and asceticism. Here, "God" lifts the weight of regret. I prefer to directly deal with my regret -- which usually involves wronging someone I care about – by acknowledging my mistakes and openly apologizing. But no matter the method of lifting regret, we inevitably crumble toward chaos like everything else in this universe, and make the same mistakes again and again. This is frustrating. I could not count the number of times I’ve said “I’m not going to do that again,” or “I’m not going to be like that anymore,” only to let myself down again by bearing the same regrets.

So why, then, is regret a weight in the first place? One could argue this from a purely biological perspective in that, as mentioned above, distancing ourselves from one another through wrongdoing does not promote species survival. Regret would then be a mechanism that motivates us to fix tarnished relationships and learn from our mistakes to improve success in the next relationship. This perspective isn’t limited to relationships either, as I could easily “regret” attempting a backflip off a large rock that would dissuade me from ever trying it again, thereby improving my chances for procreation. The problems with this perspective, however, are numerous. I have met plenty of people that are by no means pleasant to be around, yet procreate like roaches. At the same rate, I wouldn’t say regret would motivate me to improve my relationship with Matt so we can procreate – which may actually be God’s motivation toward preventing the birth of the anti-Christ. From a spiritual perspective, regret motivates growth of our intangible inner selves. Of course, this has problems as well, starting with “our intangible inner selves” being a nebulous entity at best. Nonetheless, there is a certain simplicity in the spiritual perspective that can provide just as much motivation as the biology perspective to encourage us to maintain good relationships with other people.

So what is my motivation for writing this blog entry? Could it be that I have regrets? Doh! Guilty as charged. Importantly, there isn't a particular recent faux pas precipitating an AA-style telethon for forgivness; rather, as is usually the case for the AstroSite, my entries are but a falling leaf from the sky. But since this my blog, I suppose I do have the podium; whether I have anyone’s attention is a different supposition, but alas, my prefrontal cortex can't win all of the time! The largest regret I have is something I’ve carried since I was that feisty little child refusing to go football practice (I know, tough to imagine I would object to FOOTBALL practice). But I was so adamant about not going that it was the first time (and only time, thankfully) that I told my mother that I “hated” her for making me go. This of course, is absurd, but I’ve regretted it ever since and it highlights my most frequent regrettable offense: I am, and have always been, very sharp-tongued. Often, the lacerations I inflict in someone are invisible to me at first, as arrogance is a permanent trait of my personality. But in time I realize the damage I caused, regret takes hold, I apologize, I scold myself to “tone down the F’n rhetoric, dude!”, and a week later without realizing it, I rip through someone I care about again. And again. I think part of my struggle is that passion is certainly another trait of mine that will never – and maybe should never – be silenced. But my passion, despite its best intentions to champion all that is “righteous," can recruit my arrogance, and usurp my mouth to mince the thickest of skin. This is something that has caused endless regrets.

Yet, I continue to be blessed with the undying love of an amazing woman, I am surrounded by friends that even Shakespeare couldn't accurately describe, and my family, despite my frustration with it at times, remains an inspiration. How can this be? I realize that I probably have enough good, non-regrettable experiences with people that a few sharp words are easily forgiven; I also realize that we are all human, and therefore we share a handful of regrets. In the poetry of Bono, “we hurt each other, and we’ll do it again”; while Brian Transeau replies, “all that makes us human continues”. Yes, indeed. Somehow. Musing upon these axioms, a paradox presents itself: how can someone regret regret if regret is what motivates us to become a better person? Ah, the gray shade of the truth once again bleaches the black and white. But whether a result of biology, God, the inner self, or my fake veggie bologna sandwich, the purpose of regret may be irrelevant if the consequence of regret is growth of our intangible inner selves. And so I offer my apology to those that have been, and will again be victimized by my arrogant, passion-sheathed tongue. But please trust that I will learn and grow with the healing of your wounds.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

You have an uncanny ability to perceive and evaluate a single situation across multiple dimensions. Because of this, I believe that you are often caught at a crossroad--a crossroad which has tangents spanning in X, Y and Z and possibly yet parallel dimensional axes. How do you choose which one to take? Do you endlessly weigh the moral, religious, and social implications of your potential choice? I can see that no matter which road you choose, regret will always be lingering in the shadows. It's a Catch-22: You see that no matter which path is chosen, regret will be innate, but you want to avoid regret by evaluating your motives for choosing that particular path or action, yet regret is unavoidable because there were still innumerable other paths left untreadded. In the arms of this convolution I will always admire you for your desire to grow and learn.