Oh how I have wasted these precious years on regret.
I feel sort of funny admitting that since I spend my days helping other people embrace their passion and fulfill their dreams.
But then again, I will be the first to admit that dream fulfillment is a risky business!
Why should I be exempt?
In all events, regret is a toxic kind of thing.
It silently seeps into the wounds of disappointed expectations and just festers there.
Regret colors everything grey!
Then it seduces with a siren song that could make just about anyone savage their own beautiful creations.
Regret and I are parting ways today!
There is a place here in San Cristóbal that I have made into my own personal wailing wall. I have gone there time and again to lament what never could have been. By this I mean the illusions I created and upon which I also foisted my reliance.
Each time the illusions fell down, unable to stand up to my scrutiny or even the full light of day, I made the resultant wounds into my loyal Sentinels of Regret. I tasked them with the job of curtailing my openness, my risk taking, and most importantly, my joy.
As I ran full steam ahead, arms flung wide open, towards each mirage, I was always surprised, dismayed, and confused when, just as I approached, ready to wrap my arms around my destiny, the whole thing became like a dust cloud dancing in the wind and I came tumbling down.
At the time I thought I felt my nose hit the ground with overwhelming force.
The truth is a little more interesting than that!
In reality, I tumbled down another rabbit hole.
Each time it was the illusion that drew me and the fall that forced the ground to open up and swallow me.
With each yawning breath, the earth took me in and tore through another layer of shit I needed to get rid of anyway.
But I could not see this!
I saw betrayal.
So, I sat at the bottom of the rabbit hole rubbing my nose and grousing like a petulant child when in fact my nose had scarcely been touched at all.
Then, I managed to use the descent, the wild, unpredictable moment that should have been the opening to my next adventure, to ruin every possible opportunity for joy.
I did this all in the name of regret and in honor of my ironclad NEVER AGAIN!
I have used the wailing wall for something else too!
I have gone there to spit upon the foolish woman with lapsed judgment who wanted so much to believe.
I grew to hate her.
So periodically, I met her at the wailing wall and skewered her with my judgmental eyes.
This last weekend, even these illusions collapsed.
I stood in front of my wailing wall, and all of a sudden I could see my regret papering over everything like the worst kind of gaudy, unpleasing decor.
I also saw the woman who opened so indiscriminately. I saw her desperation to be loved, to be held, to live her life out loud...
I then saw the Sentinels of Regret. Each one wore a jacket with her name across the back.
Just as indiscriminately as I once opened, I had also managed to close.
It turns out I had also wrapped quite a collection of my broken dreams in the stench of my regret and then buried them.
I didn't even know I had done this until my work forced me to dig them up and ask myself if I still wanted them.
I discovered that I do.
I immediately dismissed my Sentinels. I burned the gauche fabric of my regret, and I turned myself loose.
I abandoned myself to the enjoyment that is all around me.
I let go in the musky scent of my lover's skin and the sweetness of his kisses.
I remembered that I once dreamed of living in this wacky Mexican town.
I took stock of the fact that I have now pretty much forgotten the English names of all the spices I use to make the homemade dishes that have taken the place of prepared gunk and convenience.
I let myself get lost in the bright colors and the cornucopia of sounds that fill my world every day.
I gave in to the reality that I have created everything I set out to build.
Everything in me reached out for pleasure and then I tumbled down another rabbit hole and into the waiting arms of my own ecstasy.
Let the next adventure begin!
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