Emotional Clouds

It’s very human to feel regret, because we inadvertently hurt each other along the way.

We might break something by accident. Or you might say something that cuts like a knife that you wish you could take back. Or you might step on your golden retriever’s paw, as I did, so hard it caused a bone chip that gave Mira arthritis as she got older. The mistakes we make that cause pain plague us with what ifs. What if I had waited before speaking? What if I had been more careful? What if I could just take this or that back?

It’s easy to fixate so much on what went wrong—and, more precisely, on what can’t be changed—that we become burdened and even imprisoned by the endless replaying of the hurt we induce or receive, the guilt we can’t seem to escape, or our anger—at life or each other or ourselves—for the way things have turned out.

The word regret comes from the Old French word regreter, which means “one who bewails the dead,” and this goes further back to the German root meaning “to greet.” We always face these two phases of regret: to bewail what’s gone wrong and what’s been lost and to greet the chance to do things differently. The deeper practice of regret is to re-greet and re-meet the situations we have bungled, so we might make amends and course-correct.

How, then, do we outlast our regret in order to focus on how we might do things differently? The purpose of relationships that don’t work is that they help us inhabit relationships that do. And the purpose of falling down is that we can practice getting up. And the purpose of dreams that don’t come true is that they serve as kindling for the dream of who we are, helping us come true.

In my twenties, I went rock climbing with my dear friend Paul, who was a master rock climber. I felt compelled to experience this process. He tied me to him and went first, scaling a large, pronounced rock face before us. He was about twenty feet ahead of me when I slipped and slid down the rock, cutting up my arms and shins.

I bobbed and dangled there, my heart racing, the rope tight around my chest. When I came to a stop, I looked up at Paul. He called out, “Are you alright?” I nodded yes. And then, without hesitation, he motioned me to ascend where I had fallen—one more time. All these years later, I realize that this is the true practice of regret: to climb over the exact terrain of our mistakes—one more time. There is no other way forward.

Being human, we can’t eliminate the appearance of hurt, anger, and guilt, try as we will. This is why part of the work of self-awareness is to recognize when the clouds of hurt, anger, and guilt begin to hover about us. For these emotional clouds always block us from seeing things as they are. And part of our daily, spiritual practice necessitates our outwaiting or dispersing the emotional clouds of hurt, anger, and guilt. So we can remain a student of things as they are.

The spiritually, practical question that remains is: What experiences, rituals, and relationships will help us outwait and disperse these emotional clouds that prevent us from seeing clearly what our next steps of growth might be?

So much of our human journey centers on taking risks, admitting what we’ve done or have neglected to do, making amends, and outwaiting or dispersing the emotional clouds that make us victims instead of explorers.

We must hold ourselves and each other accountable for what we do, but also help each other not maim our identities by hammering the tin of our souls with unending regret. Otherwise, there is no way out of the dungeon of self-reproach, no way to step into the light and learn, grow, transform, and evolve.

I still feel bad about stepping on Mira’s paw when she was five. But once I could disperse my cloud of regret, which took some time, I could re-greet that moment: not replaying the mishap and the pain it caused, but re-imagining how I might step lighter.

In this, I’ve learned from Mira how to walk more gently in the world.

When we sink into the grip of regret, we grow heavy and burdened. When we can re-greet and re-imagine what went wrong, we find a humble and precise way forward.

When we can love each other into the open, we can help each other navigate the difference.

---

Questions to Walk With

In your journal, describe a moment that causes you regret. What degree of hurt, anger, or guilt has gathered around you and your identity for this unwanted act. How has such regret affected you?

In conversation with a trusted friend or loved one, describe what it feels like for you to see things as they are. How do you know when emotional clouds are rolling in? How do you know when things are clearing again?

---

This chapter is from my book in progress, The Brilliant Jagged Journey of Life.