You know, I don’t regret a lot--a fact for which I’m grateful. I’ve never regretted my travels, my adventures, but I might regret what they've cost me. Or maybe I resent what they've cost me. Regret has never felt like the right label—I don’t long for a person, a place, an object not taken, traveled, or met. Maybe it’s not in my nature or maybe I just have a different definition.
But resentment, there’s a word with which I have intimate acquaintance. And maybe that’s worse. I’ve never been a grudge-holder, but I am a resentment holder. I resent that I’m uncomfortable in my own skin. I resent that I become a complete flustered mess when talking to a stranger—any stranger. I resent my lack of solvency and neediness of any kind—in myself or in my orbit. I resent being depended upon because it traps me, closes off my escape routes.
So I love this landscape that needs me not at all. I love that the snow falls with no regard of how it will disrupt my day, my muscles, my plans. I love that the weeds don’t give a flying fig whether I’m on my knees in the garden on a June day or not. I love that the wind acknowledges my frustrations by carrying my voice away with it. I love being busy, having to keep up with this landscape that, no doubt, could kill me in a hundred ways if I let it.
I need it in a way that doesn’t need me, and that’s ease; that's simplicity. There is no mutual dependence, but there is a hierarchy, a wisdom, a guru/student thing going on and I’m all for it.
I have no pets, no children, no spouse, and no partner. I have a beloved sister, a beloved mother, and a best friend without whom my life would not be complete, but I don't have a dependence on them. Don’t misunderstand me, though. I love these three people with a depth I cannot understand, but it isn’t dependence, neediness—thank the stars it isn’t. Because dependence is the hard place that drives me to climb over the rock every time.
No, this is completion. The landscape completes me; I don’t complete it. These people complete me, but I don’t complete them because one person cannot complete another. Our circles, our whole universe(s) take that role.
That, perhaps is the cure for it all—a complete and closed circle, a cycle with no room for resentment or regret.