I love movies that tell
a good story. One of my favorite movies is The Big Kahuna, with Danny DeVito and
Kevin Spacey as salesmen for an industrial lubricants company. The movie is
adapted from a play called “Hospitality Suite.” It centers on DeVito,
Spacey, and a younger man who works as an engineer for the same company. Nearly
all the action takes place in—you guessed it—a hotel hospitality suite,
where the three men are trying to land a potential customer.
Early in the film the
young character, Bob, is talking to DeVito about character. Bob mentions that
he’s wondering how he can know whether he has character or not. He’s asking
because nearly everyone in the company has mentioned how much character they
believe DeVito has.
Later, near the end of
the movie, DeVito has occasion to answer Bob’s question. In a long monologue,
he says he’s been forced to conclude that Bob does not, in fact, possess
character.
“Do you mind if I ask
why?” Bob asks stiffly.
“Because you don’t
regret anything yet, Bob,” comes DeVito’s reply.
Bob is clearly stunned,
and he scoffs, “So you’re saying I can’t have character until I do
something I should regret?!”
DeVito gives him this
smile that’s sad and kind at the same time. Shaking his head, he says, “No,
Bob, I’m saying you’ve already done things you should regret. But you
don’t.”
This scene has really
stuck with me. It resonates with both my head and my heart because it is, I
believe, one of the truest things I’ve ever heard.
Why is that? What is it
about regret that’s crucial to character? I think it’s because so many of us
try to avoid regret at every turn. What’s really fascinating to me is
the wildly different ways people avoid their regret.
On the one hand, many
people go through their lives with exquisite care, so concerned at doing the
wrong thing that they often do nothing at all. Their concern might be based on
any number of things—fear of possible consequences, fear of what others will
think, fear that they’ll go to jail or go to hell if they make the wrong
choice. What they fear, these people, is the knowledge that they will make
mistakes. It’s this sense of guilt, of regret, that they really fear.
On the other end of the
spectrum you see folks who simply refuse to feel guilty for anything.
They have a mantra, even. “No regrets!” they cry, hurtling through their
lives without pause. Why so much action? For many, it’s so they can justify
acting selfishly, of not considering how their decisions might affect others.
Like those frozen and unable to act, these people are motivated by worry, by
fear at what it means to feel regret.
What is it that we fear
so much about regret? What’s so bad about this feeling that we work so
diligently to avoid it? Perhaps it’s the prospect of admitting our mistakes to
ourselves. Maybe it’s that we don’t like to feel like we can’t control our
own emotions. It could simply be that we don’t want to face the consequences
of actions that went awry.
In truth, though, regret
is the last thing we should try avoid. It calls our attention to a part of our
selves that requires our attention. If we have the courage to use it, regret can
be a powerful tool. We can examine what’s causing the guilt, and if we’re
honest enough, we can face our own mistakes. If it’s ignored, how can we
improve ourselves? There are lessons to be found whether the regret is at our
action or simply at a situation, but the lessons have to be sought.
The real service that
regret provides is a warning that we’re not being true to ourselves. Or, more
accurately, that we’re not being true to the image we have of who we want to
be. I’ve done plenty of things I regret. Some of them hurt people I care
about, others have almost certainly hurt people I’ll never meet. All of
them have hurt me. They’ve hurt me because with each of these things I’ve
ignored the person I want to be, turned my back on my highest truth.
Near the end of Saving
Private Ryan, Tom Hanks says to the title character, “Earn this.” Left
unsaid is that to do otherwise would be an affront to those who’d sacrificed
themselves for Private Ryan. The same is true of us, too. Our regret is an
opportunity to learn the lessons inherent in each of our mistakes. We’ve
sacrificed a part of ourselves, even if only for a while, to have that
opportunity. We must take all the lessons offered, learn everything there is to
be had in those regrets. To do otherwise is an affront not only to those
sacrifices, but to ourselves.
26 July 2001