By Letty Bassart

Two weeks ago, I was asked the familiar question: “Do you have any regrets?” After a deep breath, a pregnant pause and images of crumbling bridges and mine shafts, I had to answer, “Yes.”  I giggled and sighed as I recollected futile tears cried for Sunday mornings, typos, and spilled water on stage.

In The Hour of the Star, Clarice Lispector wrote, “Everything in the world began with a yes.”   So, what epiphanies arrived with mine?

What after all is the source of regret?  Are there people in this world who really have never had one?  It seems too easy to confuse the symptoms for the disease.  We are a culture that feels greener by standing in line for “I am not a plastic bag” than by turning off the air conditioning or using one less water bottle.

In retrospect, my deepest regrets come from confusing loyalty, work, and responsibility for effort.  One can spend an entire life moving boulders and mopping floors feeling fatigued and out of time without ever really taking a chance.

Films and ads are riddled with pieces of advice, from “Carpe diem” to “Just do it.”  We all know you cannot swallow a sneeze.  Eventually, misgivings are absorbed, and fade into lessons.  Isn’t this one of the world’s most precious intangible gifts?  It is our chance to grow, to stretch the container.

Amid the cacophony of diagnostics and the politics of demand, modern life often seems like a series of cursive words lacking space and punctuation.  We take thousands of photos, but are less likely to print them.  More and more commercials are tapping into our desire for the palpable.  Whether it’s the Sun standing in the office, the PC having a conversation with the Mac, or the visible orbit around the traveler, our wants can now be portrayed in their most literal sense and our regrets are easier to avoid than ever.