Folding Paper Cranes of Regret

I have this good friend from growing up who told me that she lives her life with no regrets.  She says even if she had some, which she is not sure she does, she doesn't spend any time thinking about them.

I find this unfathomable, as I have many and waste too many brain cycles ruminating on them, without promises that this will change my understanding of them.  I try to debate with her the purpose of this mental exercise, in that I hope the analysis will help me to prevent them again.  I am not sure, though, that they are repeatable offenses.  Although initially some of these regrets were like a fresh bone that I gnawed on constantly, over time I find I think about them less and less.  Occasionally I will dig one up and refresh myself on its taste, but mostly I just end up moving on to the next one.

However, lately, I have been thinking about my regrets more.  I am not sure if this is a function of listening to Mumford and Sons pretty much continuously when I am driving around town (which puts me in a reflective mood), from connecting with my inner self in yoga class, or spending so much time away from other adults and the distraction of a busy life, which means my inner dialogue is more active. 

The other night, the yoga instructor bid us to "leave our regrets behind," and counseled that we did our best that day, and that is all we were able to do.  Although that was helpful in terms of letting go of the day and relaxing, it did not make sense to me in the context of general life decision regrets. 

 I actually think that the regrets we bear are from not doing our best, or not doing all we were able to do.  I regret treating people certain ways, or making flighty decisions based on a desire for freedom and not out of educated wisdom.  I regret choices to not take care of my body or things that belonged to me.  I could have done better, but I will still work on letting it go.

I am not sure if my thoughts are a result of some inconsolable sadness, though.  A friend of ours on FaceBook made a comment about locking himself in his room and folding paper cranes for each of the regrets in his life.  If I am folding cranes, I am doing it out of introspection.  I don't actually feel sad.  I am happier than I have ever been.  I just wish I could have gotten here sooner.

There was a time when my husband and I first discovered the flame between us, and I expressed to him that I wish I hadn't waited so long to make the choice to let go of my former life, because I would have liked to have been with him sooner.  This is a regret I think about almost daily.  When I told him this, he told me that it was okay, because we had to go through the things that we did to be right for each other.  We had to become broken people in order to be able to fit together in the way that we do, in that we have complementary personality traits, needs and abilities to give to each other.  He says if we had met earlier, we could have been wrong for each other.  I was too wild, he was too tame, we hadn't learned what was truly important in our lives, we had to mature, etc.  I just feel strongly that the rest of our lives are not long enough to be with a man such as he, and I wished we hadn't have wasted our twenties away from each other.

I used to wish fervently that I could go back in time and fix some of my bigger mistakes (letting go of someone too soon, someone too late, moving away from home, moving back home all come to mind), but if I hadn't have made each of those mistakes, I would not have ended up here.  If I wasn't here, then I wouldn't have this job that I have or be in the relationship I am in now, both of which have brought me so much purpose and joy that I wouldn't have wanted to have it any other way.  Without making those choices, I might not have my children, either.  As I told them the other day, despite the fact that they drive me crazy, they do not number among my regrets, because they have also brought me so much joy.

Once a few years ago, my children were playing outside in the yard.  A grandmother type woman of Asian descent approached them.  She couldn't speak English, so no words were spoken, but she gave my children a gift that we marveled over - a white origami goose.  The goose was made of several smaller folded pieces that all combined into a whole that had a hollowed out middle that we use to store various pencils, markers and scissors now.  We have treasured this gift for the years since, although we are not sure we ever saw that lady before or after.  

I wonder now, though, after reading my friend's comment, if this goose was the sum of the woman's folded cranes of regret, linked together to make something fresh with beauty and purpose, like the regrets that brought me to my now.  I hope that giving me her goose helped her to let hers go, and I perhaps should work on the same, or learn to celebrate them.