In his formative years, when he was fit and agile, George Bernard Shaw was asked about his life ambition. He is reported to have said, “ . . . life is not a brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch, which I have a hold of for the moment and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations.” Several years later, when he was old and frail while lying on his death bed, an energetic reporter caught up with Shaw and asked him, “ . . . what would you do if you could live your life over again?” After a long pause, Shaw heaved a peculiar, labored sigh of disappointment and regret. With a cracking voice, he responded, “. . . I would like to be the person I could have been but never was.”
There are two types of pains that each one of us experiences in life and will undoubtedly torment us as we breathe our last breath: the pain of discipline and the pain of regret. The latter is more burdensome than the former. In fact, Jim Rohn once commented, “ . . . the pain of discipline weighs in ounces while the pain of regret weighs in tons.” The pain of discipline refers to the temporary discomforts of doing things in order to achieve one’s potential. The pain of regret is the lasting disappointment or sadness of not doing what is required for someone to attain one’s potential. Whereas the pain of discipline is suffered in advance progressively, the pain of regret is suffered in arrears offhandedly.
I am privileged to have had the opportunity to interview and converse with the elderly and patients whose health conditions were considered terminal or permanent as they lay on their deathbed. Upon examination of their lives, it became apparent to me that many people, as they die, regret doing or not doing, while walking this small planet of ours.
When we are born, the high power puts us on two paths or courses – the inner journey and the outer journey. Two challenges: One - the itineraries are mandatory, Two - they must be taken simultaneously. The inner journey comprises the dreams, visions, ambitions, and aspirations that we hold within us. They are the things that we want to do, to be, and to have in life from the core of our hearts. They are, in everyday language, referred to as the inner voice. Our outer journey denotes the standpoint we develop and become cumulatively in life – how we want the world to look at us and judge us. These are positions and trappings of life. The outer journey is, to say the least, cosmetically fleeting like a spray of Gucci perfume. The way we balance these two life journeys defines our destiny - whether we cross the finish line happy and contented or lay on our deathbeds licking wounds of regret because of the things that we did or failed to do when we were walking the earth.
Many years ago, in a small fishing village in Unguja on the island of Zanzibar, a young boy, aged fifteen, taught fellow islanders the tenets of servant leadership. Since the village's livelihood revolved around the fishing industry, the residents had instituted a volunteer rescue team to attend to emergencies at sea. One night, the island and surrounding areas were hit by a strong storm - a fierce cyclone. It capsized boats that were fishing offshore. Sensing that they were in trouble, the fishermen sent out emergency messages to the shore. The captain of the rescue team on land sounded an alarm. Despite the heavy wind and torrential rains that were blowing and falling that night, the villagers left their houses and assembled at the village square overlooking the fishing bay in large numbers. They immediately put together a rescue team and saw it off with instructions to bring home the stranded fishermen. The rest of the villagers waited restlessly in the fishermen’s huts on the beach.
Four hours later, the rescue team reappeared through the fog. Cheering villagers ran to the shore to meet them. Falling exhausted on the sand, the volunteers reported that the rescue boat could not hold any more passengers. They had to leave one man behind. Taking one more passenger on board would have surely capsized the rescue boat. All would have drowned and died.
The captain of the rescue crew called for another volunteer team to go for the lone survivor. Fifteen-year-old Yusuf stepped forward. His mother grabbed his arm, pleading, “. . . please do not go. Your father died in a shipwreck seven years ago and your older brother, Masoud, has been lost at sea for a week now. Yusuf, you are all I have left.”
Yusuf replied, “. . . mama, lazima niende. Je! Itakuwaje iwapo kila mmoja atasema nisiende, aende mwingine? Mama, wakati huu lazima nifanye kazi yangu. Nafasi yangu inaniambia nifanye hivyo. Wakati tunaitwa kuwajibika, ni lazima tuchukuwe nafasi zetu na kuwajibika ipasavyo. (mother, I have to go. What if everyone here says, ‘I can’t go, let someone do it.’ Mum, this time, I have to do my duty. That is what my inner voice tells me. When the call of service comes, we all need to take our turn and do our part”). Yusuf moved closer to his mother, looked at her straight into the eyes, kissed her on the left cheek, joined the rescue team and disappeared into the dark fierce storm of the night. One hour passed. It seemed to Yusuf’s mother like an eternity. Two hours. Three hours. Three and a half hours. Finally, the rescue team boat showed up in the gale with Yusuf standing in the bow. Waving his hands in the air and holding a torch, the captain called, “ . . . did you find the lost man?” Barely able to contain himself, Yusuf excitedly yelled back, “. . . yes, we found him. And tell my mother, it is my older brother, Masoud.” Filled with and overcome by mixed emotions of excitement and self-pity, Yusuf’s mother started to cry.
Whose life are you living? Are you living the life of your father, mother, spouse, sibling, or guardian? Perhaps your mum said to you - with good intentions, of course, “ . . . Mariam, white color looks great on you, attend nursing college so that you can be a nurse. A nurse’s white dress and cap will look magnificent on you.” This was against your wish to be an academician. Maybe you dropped from seminary aspiring to be a church priest. You joined law school craving to be a judge to satisfy your father’s petition. Or do you know someone who went into early marriage because of peer pressure that every boy child in their village was starting a family at an early age? Or perhaps you took up a job in an unfamiliar field simply because the job holds some prestige and not necessarily because it nourishes your personal contentment. Is it the lure of financial security, not personal satisfaction that chains you in your position right now?
There is joy and fulfillment in following your bliss even when those around you, such as family and friends, prefer or urge you to take a different course and route. The key point to remember is that people we interact with come to either subtract, add, divide, or multiply value in our lives. Don’t live your life according to the approval of others. Follow your truth. Each one of us is blessed with an inner voice that whispers to us, ‘. . . do it; . . . take the risk; . . . go for your dreams; . . . live your life to the fullest.’ Then, it gets overshadowed by opposing voices from the world that scream to us, ‘. . . you can’t do that; . . . oh you don’t have what it takes; . . . you will surely fail; . . . that is not meant for you; . . . people will laugh at you.’ The voice we hear from within is the connection to our life purpose - our destiny. Submit to it. If we set it aside in order to conform to the demands of society, verily I say unto you, that inner voice will one day come back to haunt us as we lay on our deathbed. My small advice is to never desert your line of passion and natural talent – that is what you were brought into the world for. Pursue it to the fullest. Remember the wise words of Joan Borysenko, “. . . when we are born, each one of us has his or her life purpose. It is enclosed in us like a tent and during our life, it is our job to set up the tent.” If we ignore our inner voice, we will live an empty meaningless life and die unfulfilled.
There is a story of a college student, who was chatting with his professor. The professor had dreamed of being a concert pianist but fearing the unknown, the possibility of failing and being laughed at, he put aside his music aspiration. He, instead, went into teaching where work was secure and income was predictable. This other day, a disillusioned student bumped into the professor and started exchanging experiences. The student shared with the professor that he was not happy with his studies. Hearing this, the professor suddenly walked to the nearby piano, sat down, and began to play a beautiful melody. A few minutes into the piece, the professor abruptly stopped, turned his attention to the young student and said, “. . . young man, do what is in your heart. Ask me, and I shall answer that I wanted to be a concert pianist. I regret choosing security instead of contentment. Now, I spend every day wondering and regretting how good I might have been if I had followed my heart.” Know thyself. Do what your heart tells you to do. Pursue whatever fascinates and excites you the most.
Indeed, as we lay on our deathbeds, apart from nursing wounds of regret for the things that we failed to do when we were agile and nimble, the other regrets that will fill our hearts are the adventures that we did not take earnestly; . . . the risks that we were not courageous enough to take; . . . the endeavors that we ignored to self-actualize to full capacity; . . . the events that we avoided that, in essence, could have stretched us to full elasticity.
A group of hostages had escaped from a notorious refugee camp in an enemy’s territory. They were about to flee a war zone to freedom by traveling by foot over a dangerous rocky terrain that was planted with land mines and watched over by unreceptive snipers. The leader of the group, nonetheless, had set up a formidable plan for the journey and explained his expectations of the members. As they were about to set off, they were joined by a frail old man and a sickly-looking mother carrying a baby. Considering the perilous nature of the mission, they had to vote on whether to take the old man, the ailing mother, and the baby along. After a long debate, the leader of the group agreed to take them along with an understanding that men would take turns to carry the baby. But the old man and the sickly mother would have to make it on their own.
They set off. Several days into the trek, tired and exhausted from the travel, the old man fell to the ground. He was too weak to continue with the journey. He asked the group to leave him behind. Facing the risky reality of the mission ahead of them, the group leader reluctantly agreed to leave the old man behind. Without warning, the young mother placed the baby in the arms of the old man, stating that it was his turn to carry the baby. At once, she turned her back behind and marched on with the group. Some minutes later, she looked back. She could not believe what she saw - the old man staggering along the trail, painstakingly but purposefully, following the group with the baby in his arms.
Moral of the story is that oftentimes we fail to realize our potential because we are not strongminded. We are weak-willed. When we face resistance or a daunting hurdle or unfamiliar experience, we coil back into a cocoon. Our comfort zone. We are not tenacious enough to get past the roadblock to reach our highest scope. We avoid high seas in preference of staying close to shore. What we forget is that there is no greatness in the comfort zone. Was it not tightrope walker, Papa Karl Wallenda, who revealed, “. . . life is lived on the wire, the rest is just waiting?” Most of us do not take risks. We avoid risks. We go for easy kill and thrill. We avoid the limb of the tree where the juicy fruits sprout in favor of unripe low-hanging fruits. We call them quick wins. Man, it has been documented, garners meaningful and monumental results when he is pushed to the limit. Easy times never made one great. “Calm seas don’t make good sailors . . . ,” goes an African proverb. You cannot achieve something great in life without experiencing unpleasant effects. Greatness never came to anyone who was normal or positioned in a normal situation. Pressure enhances achievement. Never leave sight of a great opportunity without daring it with a brave action to move the opportunity forward. Always rise to the occasion because if we don’t, those opportunities will one day mutate into regrets and come back to irk and disturb us as we lay on our deathbed.
The other regret of the dying is being judgmental. I will never forget a story about an old couple that walked into the office of the president of Havard University. The wife wore a simple gingham dress and the husband appeared in a homespun threadbare suit. The two souls looked disheveled by Harvard standards. Looking at the couple, the president’s secretary felt uneasy and thought they were lost and were looking for directions to someplace outside the campus. She pulled her face down when the husband softly said, “. . . madam, we are here to see the president.” Displeased and wanting to get rid of the visitors in front of her, the secretary snapped “. . . it is not possible. The president is on a busy schedule the whole day today.” The lady calmly responded, “. . . we will wait then.”
For many hours, the secretary ignored the couple, hoping they would become discouraged and leave. They did not move an inch. The secretary grew frustrated and finally decided to disturb the president. “ . . . perhaps if they see you for a few minutes, they will leave,” she told the president. He reluctantly accepted to see the visitors. Someone of his status did not have time to spend with people in a gingham dress and a homespun suit. There was no space for such people at the university’s campus.
The lady started to narrate their story, “. . . we had a son who attended Havard University for a year. He loved the university. Unfortunately, we lost the young man in a road traffic accident. He was run over and killed by a careless drunk truck driver. My husband and I would like to erect a memorial to him somewhere on campus.” The president could not believe what the old lady had just said. Laughable – no, it was vexatious. He snapped, “. . . madam, we cannot put up a statue for every student who attended Harvard and died. And if we did, this place would look like a cemetery.”
“Oh, no,” the old lady chipped in speedily. “We do not want to erect a statue. We would like to give a building to Havard.” Unamused the president looked at the gingham dress and homespun suit attire and almost shouted at the two innocent souls, “. . . a building? Do not mock us. Do you have any idea how much a building costs? We have one hundred million dollars in the physical plant at Havard, madam”
For a moment, the lady went silent. The president was pleased - happy that his message had now hit its place. He could now get rid of the old couple. Then, the lady turned to her husband and said, “. . . Is that all it costs to start a university? Why don’t we just start our own?” the husband nodded in agreement, “I agree.” The president’s face went red. Confused, he sweated profusely. A few minutes later, Mr and Mrs Leland Stanford walked away. They traveled to Palo Alto in California where they established the university that bears their name – Stanford University – a memorial to their dear son that Harvard failed to acquire due to the prejudice of the president.
Most of us have lost and continue to lose opportunities in life because of being judgmental. We are quick to judge other people and situations purely on inkling and gut feeling to serve our ego and self-interest. We judge people and draw conclusions because of the way they look, . . . the way they walk, . . . the way they speak. We choose to associate with people of certain categories and intentionally ignore others based on what they possess and where they come from. We pick acquaintances focusing on race, . . . riches, . . . religion, . . . tribe, . . . age, . . . nationality, and other status-linked indices. We approach issues as a prosecutor, a jury, and a judge – three in one. As omniscient. We classify and grade people as commodities based on outward appearance, not the heart. One thing that we forget: appearances deceive. Every person we meet in life carries a wealth of wisdom that we lack and can tap from if we do not show prejudice. In most cases, we think that our behavior is the benchmark behavior that every soul we interact with must emulate and display. Those that display different behavior, dress differently, think contrarily, speak otherwise, or conduct their business differently from ours are riff-raff renegades - we give them unpublishable names. We forget that we are all equal in the eyes of the high power. When our time is up, we will be taken to the same graveyard where a president gets buried next to a street garbage collector. The ground that we all walk on will one day be the roof of our resting place. In essence, the people whom we deliberately avoid or overlook could have helped us, as we walk this world, to move forward, realize our potential, and live a fulfilled life.
Oh, lest I forget. The way we judge other people, how we approach daily trials and misfortunes, and whether we obey our inner voice or not, all set up the quality of our life and have a glaring bearing on how we finish our worldly race - whether we cross the finish line immensely contented or lay on our deathbed licking wounds of regret and pangs of guilt – for the things that we did or failed to do when we were fit and agile.
Lester Chinyang’anya | General Manager – Operations | Minet Malawi
Comments
Post a Comment