Regret is a Dying Man's Sport
An axiom for the living.
Regret is a dying man’s sport.
Sitting down, calculating where the doer of the deed could have done right.
Gnashing your teeth, recounting every opportunity you missed or underutilized.
Projecting to yourself where you could have been if only you had not made the wrong decision.
It’s as if you’ve forgotten that you’re human after all, and you live in a flawed world that prides itself on perfection.
The winners hide their scars or make their stumbling appear as though it was all part of the plan, or even better, shake it off and pretend as though nothing happened.
The losers, on the other hand, loathe the winners and moan out loud because they think they have it worse than the next person.
Sitting on the sidelines of your life as a sore loser, spectating a game that is already over, while the winners continue to play; rehearsing a past that cannot be changed is what dying men do.
Regret is a dying man’s sport.
Yes. You have made mistakes, and trust me, you will at some point make mistakes again.
Yes. You have missed or underutilized an opportunity, but believe you me, you will at some point make the wrong call again.
When that happens, when you come to terms with the fact you’re a flawed, fallible, and imperfect being capable of error in a demanding world that has convinced itself that there is no room for error, you will pause, iterate, fix what can be fixed, and continue. Or travel a new path if need be.
Because that is what winners do.
The Earth never stops spinning when there is a war in Gaza or an earthquake in Turkey.
Everything in nature continues even in the face of chaos.
The sun never stops shining.
The moon never stops glowing.
The cloud never stops giving its rain.
Evolution, extinction, doesn’t matter.
Nature keeps progressing, come hell or high water, in order or chaos.
So, get out of your head and get back in the game because regret is a dying man’s sport, and you are still very much alive.
—
Chukwuwenitelum
The Sage and The Savage