I had another blog, and it died. Partially because I got sick and quit writing, and partially because it never really lived in the first place. But this is one of those instances where I can handle the regret by trying again.
I have a piano sitting in my living room, a baby grand, and the other day I realized the only reason I have it is because of a guy, a guy I haven’t seen to speak to in over six months. I teach piano, I enjoy playing piano, but I would never have bought this piano if it hadn’t been for that guy. And I don’t want to regret that piano, but sometimes I see it standing there, dusty, and I really wish I’d never bought it. I learned something about myself because of that piano, though; I realize I wasn’t immune to the unfortunate reality that girls will do crazy things for guys they like, even if the guy in particular isn’t interested.
But I know I can’t always get rid of regrets by learning a lesson. I can’t get rid of regrets by confessing my sins, or praying. I can’t get rid of regrets by reading quotable plaques. So I’m just writing some things down to figure out how one lives with no regrets. Because there will be times I have things I don’t want to have, when I am in places I don’t want to be, and when I will say things I don’t want to say. I will probably write things I will wish I had never written.
One of my favorite books is A Severed Wasp by Madeleine L’Engle. A character from that book, a concert pianist whose life was horrific and tragic and beautiful and sacred, when asked if has any regrets about her life says no. She had those times she wanted to be elsewhere, wanted to do something else, but still had no regrets. That’s the kind of life I want to have. It isn’t the absence of pain and hurt and evil, but possibly the choice to see the sacred, to make music in the face of evil.
So I’m blogging, again. I’m going to write about the messy life I have, the sacred music I make, and the regrets I have to deal with. And I’ll try not to edit too much.