Matt W Cook

writer.former fundamentalist.christianly fellow

Tag: regret

August 28, 2013

Another thing about the past

IMG_20130531_100823There is an Event I anticipate.  It’ll be fun.  It draws close and my excitement grows.  And then it comes and I throw myself into it.  I enjoy and consume the Event, drinking my fill and even a little bit more.  Waves of happiness roll all over and it’s exactly how I had hoped it would be with the laughings and huggings and tomfooleries.  And then it ends.  And I’m the child who cries because he finished all his ice cream.  The past killed the Event.

That’s the thing about the past.  It consumes all Events, every single one.  And it’s good that it does, otherwise I’d be stuck.  I’d be static.  And I can’t think of a worse hell than boredom.  That’s why Alexander wept when there were no more lands to conquer.  Just what else was he supposed to bother staying alive for?

I don’t mourn when the night of wild laughter winds out.  I smile at the smoldering campfire the next morning.  At the challenge of making pancakes without spatula or bowl.  At the gentle pull of gravity on my shoulders.  I smile that the powerful play goes on, and I get to contribute a verse.

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August 14, 2013

The thing about the past.

I used to regret some of the choices I made.  I looked back on my high-school days and wished that I had been as clever and socially awesome as I am today.  I looked back on college and wished I had asked better questions.  Relationships I could have saved.  Sufferings I could have prevented.

This is not a fish.

That’s the thing about the past; even though it didn’t even exist, it could still make me sad.

But what if I had had a better time in high school?  Would present me—the only me that even exists—be better off?  I suppose not.  I suppose the only reason I regret any of the choices of my past is because I empathize with the younger Matt making the choices, much in the same way I empathize with the characters from my favourite movies and novels.

So I didn’t do all the things I would have liked to do as a child, as a high-schooler, as a guy in his 20s.  But that’s fine because Matt the child and Matt the high-school and Matt the 22-year-old don’t exist.  Only I exist.  And there’s no point in feeling sorry for those Matts because they aren’t around to appreciate it.

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