Regret is a funny thing. When it appears, it can mean I’m unnecessarily dwelling on something I did. Or didn’t do. Yet its absence may mean that I am not reflecting on things that might matter a lot. Mastering that balance often eludes me.
It seems like canceling rituals is easier than it’s ever been. I’ve been in the middle of three cancellations of rituals and I regret each one. My favorite ritual traditionally had been my only one for a long time and it occurred for twenty years at my brother’s house on the fourth Thursday of every November. My ears buzzed long after those nights ended while I re-played the stories from playing catch-up with each other. And it always took my nose too long to rid itself of the perfume scents from the aunts’ varieties, the wonderful women whose names always escaped me. For personal reasons, that ritual ended in 2007 but none of us knew that until a few months ago.
The ending of that one had nothing to do with the bad economy. Two others did. First, I canceled an early-stage ritual where college friends who had fallen out of touch came to Atlanta in 2007 for a golf-dinner thing. We agreed that we should do it annually no matter what. As the economic crisis worsened in autumn, 2008, several of the 20 people called me trying to cancel for a variety of reasons. The $400 price tag didn’t help. So, I canceled it.
Then, at the 2009 Aloha channel partner event, we canceled the Radiant Cup golf tournament due to the cost. This was an event that was becoming our way of connecting channel partners and Radiant around the world for a wonderful two-day celebration of our hard work and commitment to one another.
The environment led to the cancellation of rituals which had become my welcome guests. And now, I’m dwelling on those cancellations with regret. What is a ritual if an excuse – good or bad – can get in its way? Could I have restructured both to fit the times that were upon us? Why didn’t I predict my regret before I canceled them? I could have altered the two golf events to be low-cost affairs. The ritual is more about people and connections, not the setting and the food.
Internalizing this regret will hopefully improve my resolve and ensure I treat rituals with the no-matter-what attitude they deserve. If I allow the environment to be an excuse for things really important to me, it means something is being taken from me that I probably don’t deserve. It is time for me to take it back.
