Mr. Martin Regrets

Here, I thought about listing some of the regrets that haunt my life, thinking that you would relate and perhaps on some wordless, astral level we could commiserate some of our mutual wretchedness. I even thought about calling this essay, A Catalog of Regrets.

Thank God, I came to my senses and decided against such a litany of the woebegone. In any event the list would just include the "usual suspects," the commonplace human follies relating to choices made in career, relationships, studies, etc. We all know the "bit" here.

Instead, I suppose I will continue working on myself. I suppose that I am not such a bad guy and have not had so terrible a life that I should cringe in horror at its strange, meandering course.

After all, with every door that I have closed or has been closed for me (Is there any difference?), another door has opened up as the conventional wisdom goes.

I just wish I did not have to continue listening to the creaking of those decisions as I trip soulfully off into the twilight of my life.

I suppose The Bard did say it all in Sonnet 29 about the folly of "desiring this man's art or that one's scope." As long as I compare my life to someone else whether of greater worldly success or spiritual accomplishment, I shall always disappoint myself.

In my more lucid moments, I realize that I am as Shakespeare says, "With what I most enjoy contented least. . ."

I begin to see that in the finaly analysis acceptance of self and one's life requires a continual commitment to live in the present. It is not something that you can put on automatic pilot. I am not sure that God lists "cruise control" as an accessory option at birth.

Still , He/She/It does give us a pretty good spiritual antenna and a state of the art radio in our hearts--just not any kind of spiritual or mental gadgets that enable us to relinquish control to something that whirs,clicks, hums and grinds--like say a PC or DVD player.

When I remember my breath or stop in midsummer to gather the ripe Bartlett pears that are slowly yellowing on the tree outside my window or express my love to another or honor the indwelling spirit in silence or with credible service to others, I live in the present.

As I grow older I see that I am fated

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