Arthur Gordon, wonder, if only, next time, regret

We're sorry, but this content is no longer available on Beliefnet. You may enjoy the following related inspiration stories: Gallery: 10 Ways to Grow How to start 'repotting' to achieve your dreams. Finding What You Were Meant to Do Just as Michelangelo saw David within the stone, your unique gift is inside you, waiting to be revealed. Learning to Begin Again When people facing difficult life challenges ask me for advice, I have two simple words for them. The Life Raft You Cannot See An injured man stranded in the wilderness finds help where he least expected. The Growing Season Isn't Over Don't believe the negative message that it's too late for you to blossom. ‘If only,’ they say to me, ‘I had done it differently—or not done it at all. If only I hadn’t lost my temper, said that cruel thing, made that dishonest move, told that foolish lie. If only I had been wiser, or more unselfish, or more self-controlled.’ They go on and on until I stop them. Sometimes I make them listen to the recordings you just heard. ‘If only,’ I say to them, ‘you’d stop saying if only, we might begin to get somewhere!'" * The Old Man stretched out his legs. "The trouble with if only ," he said, "is that it doesn’t change anything. It keeps the person facing the wrong way—backward instead of forward. It wastes time. In the end, if you let it become a habit, it can become a real roadblock—an excuse for not trying anymore. * “Now take your own case: Your plans didn’t work out. Why? Because you made certain mistakes. Well, that’s all right: Everyone makes mistakes. Mistakes are what we learn from. But when you were telling me about them, lamenting this, regretting that, you weren’t really learning from them." * "How do you know?" I said, a bit defensively. * "Because,"said the Old Man, "you never got out of the past tense. Not once did you mention the future. And in a way—be honest, now!—you were enjoying it. There’s a perverse streak in all of us that makes us like to hash over old mistakes. After all, when you relate the story of some disaster or disappointment that has happened to you, you’re still the chief character, still in the center of the stage." * I shook my head ruefully. "Well, what’s the remedy?" "Shift the focus," said the Old Man promptly. "Change the key words and substitute a phrase that supplies lift instead of creating drag." * "Do you have such a phrase to recommend?" * "Certainly. Strike out the words ‘if only’ ; substitute the phrase next time." * " Next time ?" * "That’s right. I’ve seen it work minor miracles right here in this room. As long as a patient keeps saying if only to me, he’s in trouble. But when he looks me in the eye and says next time, I know he’s on his way to overcoming his problem. It means he has decided to apply the lessons he has learned from his experience, however grim or painful it may have been. It means he’s going to push aside the roadblock of regret, move forward, take action, resume living. Try it yourself. You’ll see." * My old friend stopped speaking. Outside, I could hear the rain whispering against the windowpane. I tried sliding one phrase out of my mind and replacing it with the other. It was fanciful, of course, but I could hear the new words lock into place with an audible click. * "One last thing," the Old Man said. "Apply this little trick to things that can still be remedied." From the bookcase behind him, he pulled out something that looked like a diary. "Here’s a journal kept a generation ago by a woman who was a schoolteacher in my hometown. Her husband was a kind of amiable ne’er-do-well, charming but totally inadequate as a provider. This woman had to raise the children, pay the bills, keep the family together. Her diary is full of angry references to Jonathan’s weaknesses, Jonathan’s shortcomings, Jonathan’s inadequacies. * "Then Jonathan died, and all the entries ceased except for one—years later. Here it is: Today I was made superintendent of schools, and I suppose I should be very proud. But if I knew that Jonathan was out there somewhere beyond the stars, and if I knew how to manage it, I would go to him tonight. " * The Old Man closed the book gently. “You see? What she’s saying is, if only; if only I had accepted him, faults and all; if only I had loved him while I could.” He put the book back on the shelf. "That’s when those sad words are the saddest of all: when it’s too late to retrieve anything." * He stood up a bit stiffly. "Well, class dismissed. It has been good to see you, young man. Always is. Now, if you will help me find a taxi, I probably should be getting on home." * We came out of the building into the rainy night. I spotted a cruising cab and ran toward it, but another pedestrian was quicker. * "My, my," said the Old Man slyly. “If only we had come down ten seconds sooner, we’d have caught that cab, wouldn’t we?” * I laughed and picked up the cue. “Next time I’ll run faster.” * "That’s it," cried the Old Man, puffing his absurd hat down around his ears. "That’s it exactly!" * Another taxi slowed. I opened the door for him. He smiled and waved as it moved away. I never saw him again. A month later, he died of a sudden heart attack, in full stride, so to speak. * More than a year has passed since that rainy afternoon in Manhattan. But to this day, whenever I find myself thinking if only , I change it to next time. Then I wait for that almost-perceptible mental click. And when I hear it, I think of the Old Man. * A small fragment of immortality, to be sure. But it’s the kind he would have wanted. TEXT ENDS HERE -->