The Witcher and Destiny

My current binge show is The Witcher on Netflix. Henry Cavill’s plays Geralt, the main character, a monster hunter with supernatural powers. The source material is from a series of novels that have spawned other visual adaptations including video games.

The writing and technical work of the series is better than I’d anticipated.  The characters play with the idea of destiny, fate, choice and power. Three stories overlap at the moment, chronologically, and I’m looking forward to the intersection point as I’m almost finished season one.

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In episode 6, Geralt is talking to his love interest Yennifer. Yennifer is played by Anna Chalotra. Chalotra kills it, owning her scenes and the story of Yennifer’s transformation. Both Geralt and Yennifer were forced into their roles and neither had a choice.  In this scene, Yennifer asks Geralt if he regrets being a witcher. He replies,

“It’s hard to regret something you didn’t choose.”

It’s these phrases that shine of skilled screenwriting and they are scattered throughout the series. The idea of regret and choice creates an interesting dichotomy.

Can we regret something that was forced on us? How about choices made outside our say or influence? Is the nature of regret something we can only own and access on a solo basis?

Look back at the traumas of the past.  We can feel pain and sorrow, anger and frustration. We can only control the reach of our influence.  We can mourn for loss, but loss shapes us into who we are meant to be.  It punctuates our story.

If we agree with Geralt’s line, we move forward with new insight. It is our choice to reshape how we see the past. We can burn down the chains and use them to drive us forward.  We can reset healthy boundaries and own our spaces and influence.  We can look forward as victors as victory comes in survival.

We can see the utmost value of choice, the power in the moments we offer it to someone else. The concept of not wasting a choice because we never know when the next will come.

The world is not always fighting monsters.  No matter your role, know your power.  Know your past and where you hitch the powerful emotion of regret.  Your future relies on it.

Regret

In high school, I was on the Mock Trial team and I loved it. I was a lawyer for all four years of my time and lead attorney for the last two. I found I’d enjoyed speaking in front of people, the analysis that came from the legal process, and the chance to spin a story for an audience.

The last day of our last trial, the team adviser came up to me in the hallway of the courthouse.  He was an actual attorney in the county, a younger guy, and he shook my hand.  He looked at me and said,

“You should really consider law school.”

I laughed.  My mind flashed with images of defending criminals and what would happen when I lost?  Then it flipped to putting people in jail and what would happen when they were released?  Of course time, cost, and effort played into the idea.

In the end, I didn’t go.

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That conversation was a crossroad, one of the many we face in life.  The idea had been offered.  What if I’d taken it and followed?  How would life be different?  Where would I be a decade into a law career?

Now I have friends who are lawyers and I’ve known others.  It’s not all the glamour of the many television shows out there. It can lead to success and burnout, victories and defeat. Was it to be a part of my story that I’d never followed?  I’ll never know.

Regret is chasing memories.

Add in traumatic memories and you create a dangerous combination.

A shard of pain can stick like a nail in wood. Addictions swirl into long term substance abuse and manipulation. Emotional and physical abuse. Control. Mental games of chess.

Trauma creates an unbalanced ledger.  Our souls respond in kind.

Cancer, for example, can paralyze a person in fear and motivate another to live their best life. An abusive relationship can send one into a spiral of darkness while another may be inspired to take back their life and set up healthy boundaries.

Our lives are filled with mirror moments. We stand in spots where we are called to make a choice, to look at ourselves and see who we really are.

We all see the signs.  Some recognize them instantly, some miss, and others will only see them years later. We all need clarity in our lives.

As the year turns and a new decade dawns, I pray you experience this in your life. May 2020 be the best ever.  No matter where you are in your journey, I pray for bigger and better things, for fulfillment, for physical and mental health.  I pray you are bigger than your emotions and you can stand strong when the waves come.

Spend your energy making memories, not chasing them.  You’ll be surprised at what follows.

 

Missing Out

I had the same dream last night.

It is a dream I’ve had probably fifty times over the past few years.  I’m at college, back at West Chester University.  I’m a senior and it is the end of the semester.  I have one class I need to graduate, literally one class to attend and I can’t find it.  I walk around campus and can almost feel the sun on my face.  The whole time, the location of the class does not reveal itself.

I search and search, never finding it. The day goes on and I start an internal debate.  Do I really need it to graduate?  What if I miss it?  Can I graduate and somehow take it in the summer?  What happens if I can’t graduate? The questions keep coming. The anxiety builds and, every time

I wake up.

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Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is a real thing that has grown from the social media boom.  People spend their days looking at Twitter/Instagram/Facebook/Snapchat stories and compare their lives to others.  If they don’t stack up, it creates worry and anxiety.

Everything is comparison. Every picture, every filter, every vacation and creatively-shot dinner. We look at our plate and wonder why the salad isn’t as green, the steak isn’t as marbled, the wine isn’t as red and why our kids are running laps in the living room while theirs sit and eat.

Missing out translates, at the bottom line, into regret.

I’ve written before about being on the Mock Trial team in high school.  After our last case, the attorney advisor told me I should consider law school.  I said to Val the other night, what if I’d gone to law school?  Where would we be today??

Our stories are formed in intersection and opportunity.

My cousin’s husband is a financial advisor.  He told a story once that a friend in the business had called him to say, “hey man, I have this small iced tea company in upstate New York about to go public, you want in?”  He passed on it.  It was Snapple. Now, not every chance is that clear or easy.

Our lives are built on the foundations of our yes and our no.

Did you ever find yourself in a job you knew, without hesitation, wasn’t for you?  I did direct sales in the city of Philadelphia for two weeks, in mid summer, walking around in a shirt and tie. It was not for me.  I actually don’t regret taking the job as it was a learning experience but, in the end, I could have turned it down.

I believe, in the depths of my soul, that we are all called to make a difference. Someone you know, someone you talk to or email today, they need you.  They need to hear your voice and they will find security in it. They need you to push, or pull, them forward towards a greater calling.

I don’t know if regret every truly goes away.

The Apostle Paul wrote often about changing his message to suit his audience.  If you page through his books you’ll notice tone changes and logic progressions. Paul’s fear was not missing out, it was missing in. It was presenting what was on his heart in a way that would connect with everyone from new believers to Roman citizens and politicians.

“What if I strike out?” my son asked the other day riding home from baseball practice.

One of Val’s favorite movies is A Cinderella Story. In the movie, Hillary Duff plays the main character and, on the wall of her father’s diner is the quote, “Don’t let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game,” paraphrasing Babe Ruth. Ruth may not be the greatest role model, but he has a point.

We must do our best to be present, to be in the moment with those we love. To be in the moment of our choices and to have peace with the directions our lives take.  We must sit in our emotions, to hurt with those in pain, to laugh until we cry, to hold a hand and stand with someone in their moment of weakness.  We must know our own value and live life with an understanding that we are worth it.  We are worth treating ourselves better, worth surpassing prior generations, worth stitching up our wounds and going back on the battlefield again.

It is worth striking out because adversity brings growth, because nothing changes if nothing changes.

It is worth it because someone is always watching, may it be your kids or your inner child, someone you love or someone you admire.  They are watching and waiting for you to tell your story.

So step up to the plate without fear. Without regret. Take a moment and breathe.

Open your eyes and swing.

The _nd.

On Friday night we met with another couple, dear friends of ours, to start our small group centered around Mark Batterson’s book, If. We talked about our goals in life, our current spots, and what we see for the future.

How can we shift If Only regrets to What If possibilities?

The idea of shifting regret to possibility is one of changing stories. As a writer, I’ve always seen the catalyst for changing a story as finding a more complete ending.  Some writers know the ending before it starts.  I’m not one of them.

In my formative years, I read Stephen King’s On Writing where he mentions stories as fossils to be unearthed and his aversion to outlining. I know this spurs hours of conversation between creative types but, I believe, there’s a divine mystery to writing without an ending in mind. You may find yourself in a corner but, at the same time, mysteries and wonders will be revealed that enrich a story far beyond any outline.

The flow of shifting regret to possibility starts when we realize our ending is not complete.

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I think of Saul riding his horse down the Damascus road.  You think we have violence today?  This guy had raided homes, pulled Christians out and stoned them.  He was an enforcer, the best of the best, a Roman citizen working for the government doing his job.

He had blood on his hands.

Maybe that day was hot and dry as he rode forward with his companions.  Maybe he replayed the latest raid and killing in his mind.  Maybe he thought about a cushy government pension and villa somewhere that he would spend his days in after retirement.

The next moment, in a flash of light, his If Only had shifted to What If.

In his transformation days, blinded by the Redeemer he had chased so virulently, his regrets were fuel for his What If’s. He would now walk into cities and tell a new story.

He, the worst of the worst, was saved by grace coming from the greatest sacrifice in history.

When his eyes opened, he was now Paul, and would go on to write more than half of the New Testament. His ending, at the time, was not written.  Even in later years, when he understood he would face death at the hands of the same government he had served, he kept writing.  He kept pushing for expansion of the church.  He kept reaching out, burning away the regrets with new fire and new dreams.

He changed the world.

No matter where you sit tonight as you read this, your story is not over. The end is not complete. Time is not a conviction, it is the conviction to get moving. We must, as Einstein put it:

Try not to become a person of success, but rather a person of value.

Where can you make a difference? Contribute to a story? Add value? I know the arguments, believe me.  It is so much easier to curl up with some popcorn and Netflix.  Let this year be your year.  Let it be OUR year.

Look forward and see your What If as it emerges from the blinding light of contact with your Creator. As your eyes open, you will never be the same.

~Matt

Define Your Regrets

Last week we went to visit friends.  Both our families have kids the same age and they love to play together.  As the kids watched a movie, I sat at the kitchen table with my friend Matt (besides sharing the same name, an awesome guy).  Conversation moved to the past.  We talked about growing up.

I mentioned my grandfather taking me fishing on Saturday mornings.  No cell phones. No deadlines or dilemmas.  He drove his old pickup truck to the pond, parked next to it, and gradually walked around throwing his line in at various spots.  I talked about learning how to play cards and feeling like I was an adult as I sat in on rounds of family pinochle. Matt said his grandfather was a farmer and they would go on long walks at the farm, just talking and throwing rocks into the fields.

I regret the past my boys won’t get to have.

Regret, you see, is a tricky thing. In Mark Batterson’s book, If, he writes about regret.  As people age, they long for the missed opportunities.  In the short-term it is more regret of things done. Time draws your attention to the probabilities. If only I had started that business, chased that dream, asked out that guy or girl.  If only I took that vacation, adventure, mission trip.

We must reframe the concept.

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If there is anything I regret, it is not changing the narrative of my life. I told myself a story shaped by my experiences.  This kept me out of leadership opportunities, creative endeavors, ministry to friends and family  It told me I wasn’t good enough, said I was the sum of my past and not a new creation.

It was condemnation, pure and simple.

And we know that, according to the Apostle Paul in Romans, There is no condemnation for those in Jesus.

It is so addicting.  In this country, we love throwing condemnation around and drawing our lines in the sand. We are fine with grace as it extends to us, just don’t ask us to push the boundaries.

We are called into the void, past the battle lines.

The cross allows us to live without condemnation, destroying the influence of the past and old narratives on our lives. The voices that trap and snare from the dark now fall on deaf ears. We are new creations, made to chase down callings that shine light on the world.  We are meant to create, to sing, dance, write, act, draw, sculpt, design, build, and plan.

We are here to destroy old ideas and break new ground.

We are called out of the safety of our regrets (for excuses are always safe) and made dangerous.  Dangerous to the ways of the enemy, the one seeking to destroy lives.  Dangerous to the ones saying this kind of radical love is impossible.  You want to donate, serve, open your home, give your time?

You want to be selfless?

This year redefine regret and let it move you forward.  Take nothing for granted.  Dive in and know that you are called to so much more.

~Matt