On Having No Regrets

Looking back on fifty years,
I can say I’ve no regrets,
which is not to say that,
if it were possible,
I’d do it all the same again
or chart the very course
for those who take my lead.
To relive life as if rehearsed
would be dismissing both
reason and recollection,
but a life with no regrets requires
neither amnesia nor perfection.

It is wise to strive for few mistakes,
embarrassments, hurts, and shame,
and never to presume on Grace…
but it would be regrettable in deed—
to never have felt pain or loss
else how would we know their cause?

Saying I’ve no regrets doesn’t mean
I’ve never blown it or needed
to say ‘I’m sorry’ or pleaded
for forgiveness.
I’ve fallen countless times.
But it would be most regrettable
to never know remorse
and the taste of swallowed pride,
and the touch of the hand that helps me up.

Having no regrets does not mean
I’ve never prayed for things
that weren’t meant to be
or for some things to somehow be undone.
But how regrettable life would be if
our needs were narrowed to what’s known,
and all our wants were within reach,
or if time remained within our grasp.
I fear we’d never learn
the patience in a promise kept,
the prudence from the tears we’ve wept.

‘Twould be hilted arrogance
to boast of no regrets as if to have
mastered life’s gauntlets—devilish or divine—
when the opposite is true.
But in the end, there’s only one regret
that cannot turn for what is best,
and that is this: to never see,
to never understand,
how regrettable life would be
if it were truly in my hand.
.
© Copyright 2006, TK, Patterns of Ink
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There is a part of human nature that resists accountability (to man and ultimately to God); a part of us (or of mankind) that foolishly pretends that we are the master of our fate, as Henley scoffed in his poem, Invictus; a part of us resonates with Frank Sinatra's swansong, "My Way." (I suppose, if that song were speaking only of originality or of one's determination to avoid following the crowd it would be fine; but as a mortal declaration of moral independence (as the last stanza implies), it's a regrettable final bow.) There's another song that picks up this theme from a more poetic but less convincing character perspective.

When my brother Dave and I were in high school (and trying to add meat to our bones by lifting weights in the basement), we always listened to our other brother Paul's stereo albums. Our favorites were Simon and Garfunkel. I still know most of them by heart. One of them attempts to prescribe a life of no regret through resolve and retreat.

"I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,

Hiding in my room,

safe within my womb.

I touch no one

and no one touches me.

I am a rock,/I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;

And an island never cries."

.

The reason the lyrics of that song ring true is that even as the poet (Paul Simon) claims to be stone and denies his feelings, he is obviously very human and very hurt. Rather than disproving John Donne's words, he inadvertently underscores them: "No man is an Island, entire of itself..." but Donne's thought was merely a 17th Century paraphrase of another Paul's words found in Romans 14:7, "For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. (8) For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." How regrettable life would be if it were truly in our hands.