COLUMN: Living the future means not regretting the past

From Michael Feng's, "Snuffles", Fall '99 From Michael Feng's, "Snuffles", Fall '99When I saw the 10-story platform, I thought to myself, "There is no way I am jumping from this thing." Were I in the United States, perhaps it would be a different matter. But bungee jumping in China? "No one has died yet," a local told me. "Well, there was that one incident when we didn't calculate the cord length correctly and splashed the jumper into the lake, but other than that, it's been all good." Far from reassured, I started to leave. There would a better time and a better place for this, I told myself. In the end, though, I had to turn back. "Well, I probably won't die," I kept thinking to myself as I intently watched them tighten the rope. To be honest, falling 10 stories with nothing but a rope strapped to my ankle wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. Once I got over the initial stomach-wrenching free-fall, being tossed like a rag doll actually began to be somewhat fun. All in all, was the 30 seconds of bouncing worth the substantial amount of money I paid, let alone risking my life to Chinese bungee-jumping equipment? Hardly. However, jumping was worth it merely to avoid the future regret that would invariably follow had I not jumped. For me, regret is probably the worst feeling in the world, because looking back, my childhood was filled with a morass of missed opportunities. Whenever I was presented a choice between perilous seas and a tranquil shoreline, I invariably took the easy way out, my feet firmly planted on the ground. All throughout high school, I had a crush on this girl. Never did I say a word, not even on graduation day, though I knew it was probably the last time I would see her. Perhaps, even had I told her, the only response might have been, "That's nice -- bye." But the ensuing embarrassment would have been 10-fold better than the curse I will always bear, to wonder forever what could have been. It was like a line in the Pink Floyd song, "Time": "You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today. And then one day you find, 10 years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun." The more I live, the more finely tuned my fear of regret grows. Only after years spent in quiet desperation do I realize that nothing is more enduring, more permanent, than a missed opportunity. We college students incessantly hear two trite, yet seemingly contradictory messages regarding the college experience. One says, "This is the best time of your life. Enjoy it while you can." The other says, "College is the preparation stage for the rest of your life. Use it wisely." Personally, however, I find it possible to synthesize these two approaches to college within my philosophy of regret avoidance. To me, the best way to prepare for the rest of my life is to enjoy college for myself, because otherwise I know I will regret my college experience forever. For this reason, I would rather take classes such as Tabla -- the art of Indian drums -- and Theory of Musicianship than yet another Finance course in Wharton. I would rather travel abroad and learn languages than get an internship. Most likely, these four years are probably the only time I have left to learn such new skills and gain exposure to such diverse ideas. With only three semesters remaining to do so, I strive to ward off regret with a sense of new-found urgency. Instead of sitting on my heels and waiting for some signal to start running that may never come, this time around I will strive to actualize the lesson all those missed opportunities have taught me: Focus on the present rather than on future considerations and, in the end, you will never regret the past.