Thinking about Possible Regrets

When I am fifty, what are the sorts of things I will regret? If I don’t think about the past, I won’t regret anything. But I know I will think about the past, and I wouldn’t allow otherwise. I want to know myself thoroughly, and be honest with myself and the world about who I am and what I have done. If I were to buy a nice television, for example, that will last, what, 5 years? Will that have added anything to my life when I’m fifty, after the television has been gone for fifteen years? That is the sort of thing I might regret. If I send that money off to some charity, but do not get involved in any other way, will I regret that? It may even have less of an impact on my life, and I will know less about the impact on lives in general, than the television set. Of course, I’m helping something that way, possibly, but I won’t have any knowledge of how or if I did. And all I would be able to do is construct a lie to myself that says, “I’m sure that money helped someone,” when in fact I wouldn’t know. On the other hand, what about the actual experiences? The community work, the development of relationships, the actual caring and improvement of other people through reliable and verified methods? To feel wholesome and complete?

And this isn’t just about charity. It’s about my own intellectual stimulation as well. For example, I have attended woefully few plays, zero operas, and there are so many books I want to read that I have not. Will I regret not having done that? I think so. Wouldn’t it be heartbreaking to go through one’s entire life, and never to know what it is like to think and read about Proust? I have not read it, but from all the commentary I hear and read, I am fairly certain that it would add a level of complexity to my mind.

Moments of pure pleasure just make the passage of time more enjoyable. But when they are past, they are truly past. A novel like The Brothers Karamazov is pleasurable, but although it may not be as immediately pleasurable as watching some TV, the Brothers has an enduring pleasure on my mind, and is certainly capable of shaping my mental life in ways that few other experiences can.

There is a difference between non-additive experiences and additive, and perhaps that is the difference between living a life that is worthy of regret, and one that is simply worthy.