Jessica Hagy’s book, How to Be Interesting is a butt-kicker for those of us who have an uncanny predisposition to remaining in “the familiar”. I like to using this little gift-sized book to scan my life and in a couple minutes see in what areas I’m being a total snoozer! If you long to awaken again or feel the pull toward new growth, you’ll enjoy Hagy’s fun, quick visuals in each two-page chapter.
Still, I can’t help but wonder if my recurring thoughts around being interesting aren’t just another set of tell-tale exercises in self-gratification. Self-glorifying even. It’s like taking a selfie every day. And yet… how can we write memoir or a blog if we can’t deem ourselves at least a little bit interesting?
Why be interesting?
so you can respect yourself
Mhmm. I get that.
to banish boredom
yeah, yeah,
to leave a mark, not a blemish
okay, this is hitting close to home…
to limit your regrets.
Boom.
I realize that trying to live without regrets may turn into playing safe. And that is not high on the interesting scale. For example, I feel especially vulnerable around people who I don’t share a common vocabulary with… which means just about every person Daughter Cierra brings into our world.
When I was young, I wanted to live without regret, but when it came to dreaming, I had a puny, unformed imagination. I didn’t yet know of a broad, diverse world. We were taught to separate from and stand against anything we did not immediately recognize as right or holy/familiar. I didn’t know one could or should navigate such a world or what one might do or how one might be in it.
At first my understanding of sidestepping regret was to live righteously and obediently, to seek wisdom, to follow the rules and stay out of the grey. Of what I understood about the divine orchestrator of life, God seemed to think this was a good plan too.
To be interesting did not in any way figure into this equation, and I am a bit self-conscious entertaining the idea (especially out loud) even now. I guess my concern with self-respect and not leaving blemishes overshadowed adventure and risk.
On my safe journey of no remorse, I also traded audacity and nerve for avoiding conflict. I modeled myself after those I held in high esteem instead of learning my own talent. I wanted to choose well, and to keep choosing the good choices I’d already made.
Then we moved to Montana…and all those previously conceived ideas blew up. Hoping to avoid regret, we birthed loads of it. What was intended as a move of good stewardship, became a wild gamble. The stakes were too high, nothing was safe. What was meant to be a responsible or at least a reasonable adventure felt more like one long bender. Life was messy and unsure. The days were so gorgeous, tears spring to my eyes just thinking about it, but they were also filled with danger.
Surely, regret results from having a choice and not choosing rightly. Could this dramatic move fall into the category of right or wrong? Does it count if we chose with good intention, and motive? What if choices were made naively? We can beat ourselves up for having not first exhausted the research. Or, we can embrace “the crazy” and fail and learn and try again and relinquish and worship and grow in strength and character. Faith.
How can we regret the absence of something if it wasn’t a choice at the time? What benefit is “I could have/should have” thinking? I cannot regret not moving to New York City to pursue a publishing career. It was not an option at the time. And though I could allow myself to regret moving to Montana, our story is a helluva lot more interesting because we moved to this glorious place.
It’s no small feat being interesting. How about you? Any thoughts? Regrets?