I saw this quotation on a poster today and I loved it and disagreed with it at the same time. It got me thinking. It would seem that in two small lines of text, every bad decision, every mistake, regret or misdemeanour over my past 26 years was somehow justified. It was like every wrong-doing had just been shrouded in a veil of mature hindsight, disguised as nothing more than one of lifeโs little lessons.
You mess up so that you can learn from it. You hurt people and you let yourself get hurt, just so you know how it feels and avoid it happening again. You wake up to mornings that succeeded a night you would rather forget. You wake up to mornings that succeeded a night you really wish you could remember. You say words you wish you could take back. You wish you had said words youโll never get the chance to say again. You make friends, you lose friends; you fall in love and you fall out of it; you drink too much and you sleep too late; get bored at work or, worse, quit your job; you spend money you donโt have, to buy things you donโt need and then when youโre eating the last of the rice at the back of your pantry the week before pay day, with a sore head and 1200 dishes to do, you think, it was worth it, right? Hey, it probably was.
But is being young and stupid a good enough excuse?
I wonder how many of us stuff up only so we can learn from our mistakes. We take risks and we avoid thinking about the consequences of our actions because weโre narcissists and at the time, think it was a grand idea. Next time, we think, weโll do things differently. Maybe the poster is just a cop out. Maybe itโs a Gen Y alibi. We probably behave stupidly because we donโt think, period. And maybe those who turn out to be wise were always full of the wisdom that we werenโt. Sounds philosophical, itโs not.
Iโm a big believer in learning from mistakes. I just donโt think all mistakes need to be made in the first place, thatโs all. Being young and stupid isnโt the only way to be old and wise, but donโt take my word for it, iโm not there yet.
