3 Things We Wish Weren’t True
Eluding Regret and Overcoming Pride
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: It goes on.” — Robert Frost
1. Life goes on.
Clichés were often frustrating to hear as a young man. When a child commits a mistake and learns immediately of failure, these words aren’t useful at that moment. While the young boy does not understand, the older gentleman anticipates failures to come and mistakes that will be made. The phrase Life Goes On deliberately culminates as it always has.
Failures are inevitable. Ray Dalio, a billionaire hedge fund manager, famously loves his failures.
“Everyone fails. Anyone you see succeeding is only succeeding at the things you’re paying attention to—I guarantee they are also failing at lots of other things. The people I respect most are those who fail well.”
The saying life goes on is a forecast and is slyly telling us to move forward. Therein lies the message.
Failing forward.
The relative proverb life isn’t fair also plays the game of purposefully frustrating the young and undeveloped minds.
2. Life isn’t fair.
The phrase is often overused as a form of derision and not for its deeper meaning. Speaking the words audibly has a rip-saw effect on our central nervous system. Disagreeable words spoken aloud and mindfully tossed about tend to have that effect. My father’s skill for speaking words I did not wish to hear was legendary.
“You’ve got champagne taste on a beer budget”, was always in the holster.
There was always a perfect phrase warranted for every occasion. These phrases, like clockwork, were devastatingly accurate.
“You can work at the prison with me”, he would say with a shrewd tone. His voice bellowed through to my soul. His delight was never subtle. Nothing about him was. The tone carried more meaning than the words. Of course, he didn’t really want me to work at a prison. He always used aggressive banter to make a point. His language was the centerpiece of a rough persona.
He had been an employee that was hardened in a Federal Penitentiary for 20 years. There was pleasure for my father in imagining frightening scenarios. These were conversation pieces he used as simple scare tactics. It humored him.
“There are always ditch diggers”, was another insight he uttered on occasion. This was always a deterrent phrase meant to illuminate worse outcomes. Also, unbeknownst to my father, it was an iteration of Life Isn’t Fair.
Three hour discussions deep into the night inconveniently stole time from a teenagers social life. Life choices and lessons were discussed as I was held involuntarily and also unaware of genuine wisdom in real-time
Unpleasant as that may have been 25 years ago, I would eagerly wait to hear his voice today. Thirty seconds of time to hear his voice would suffice. He passed away. Cancer took his life and no one was prepared. He was 53. In monumental tragedy we learn the most valuable lessons.
3. We wait too long.
We tend to see the truths and importance of our heroes in illogical retrospect and with the timing of a Shakespearean tragedy. Most of us are guilty in some fashion. Clichés spoken by young men derive from arrogant proclamations. Wisdom derives from old men in the form of self-evidence and experience. We are never fully prepared for the phrase Life Goes On.
We wait until the breathe and the words are gone and there is just a lingering nostalgic memory that twinkles in digression as we grow older. The lesson begins again.
Life goes on.
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