I saw A Big Bold Beautiful Journey over the weekend. It’s my understanding, sadly, that critics are tearing it to shreds. It brings me some level of comfort that I didn’t, that I don’t generally, read reviews before deciding to see a movie. I recognize the risk involved in such a brazen decision, particularly these days, but I still very much like to decide for myself. I don’t want to go into a film with ideas or preconceived notions. I wish my head to be free of other people’s thoughts and criticisms and even their words of appreciation. No easy feat in today’s hyper connected world, but I sure do try.
Although I could disclaimer to high heaven, I think it would be cruel for me to give all the bits and parts of this movie away. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone, not really. So, I don’t intend to reveal anything more than an overarching concept you might very well take away from the trailer.
I do think it important to share that I found the film aching beautiful and a feast for the eyes. The colors (part of the critiques shared by many), the cinematography, were stunning. I very much applaud the choice to use primary colors for the clothing of the main characters, as a bold story deserves colors that support. And still, I can understand why others found it garish or too unusual to appreciate. The choices were unconventional in the very best way, but I’ve found over my nearly forty-five years on this planet that humanity is only comfortable with the kind of different that everyone else agrees is acceptable. Of course, I could argue that it’s no longer different if widely accepted, but that’s a discussion for another day.
My takeaway from the movie is that it attempted to explore what our life, our choices, our traumas, our joys, might look like if we revisited them at some later date. We would not be able to change anything, but merely, observe, reflect, and consider. I did not feel like the movie was intended to encourage the emotion of regret, but rather, illuminate the unique and sometimes challenging perspective of hindsight.
What happens when we can place ourselves firmly back in the space of what is likely a core memory, once we’ve seemingly survived or moved past or forgotten that time? What if that journey had nothing to do with a deep-seated desire to change the course of history and more to do with the growth that comes from understanding why something occurred the way that it did, or the ability to forgive ourselves, or even, the power to change things in the future?
I believe this to be a wholly challenging concept for most of us. I think when we look back on the biggest, most impactful events in our lives, those that may be filled with grief or burden, we look back with the kind of longing that inadvertently keeps us at a standstill.
How many times have you thought that you wished you could do something differently, or more pointedly, better or smarter?
Unfortunately, that’s not how life works, generally speaking. And the agony that comes with regret is ultimately the understanding that it doesn’t serve us, doesn’t propel us, doesn’t expand our horizons. However, knowledge is unquestionably power in these situations.
I could tell you that I would have avoided most, if not all, of the romantic relationships that I was involved with as a younger person. Those relationships were filled with abuse, grief, belittlement, aggravation, and so much pain. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that I wasted many years with men who were clearly not for me. Professionally, I didn’t always do much better. And still, I know that each of those experiences was part of my journey. I don’t mean some bigger plan that the universe has for me, though certainly that could be a thing- I mean I made choices that felt right for me at the time, and I had to move through them until I realized they weren’t. And yes, I caused myself and others harm in that process, but at the time, I didn’t know another way. Would I do it again? No, probably not, but maybe. Knowing that the possibility exists, I’m more thoughtful today about the decisions I make, the circumstances I involved myself in, and the situations I tread through.
Am I in the safest place I could possibly be at this moment? Nope. Are there things I would change right now? Absolutely. But that’s not the way things work. Some spaces I have to occupy until I have a plan. Some need to be lived in because they serve a different purpose. Some I am just not ready for and I’m not certain I’ll ever be.
But what if we looked back on those memories, those moments, not with judgment and a deep-seated desire to change them, but with a strong desire to make peace, to move on, to do things differently?
I think that there are times that we are afraid to do that. We think that somehow holding onto our pain keeps us strong and resilient, justifies how we feel and the way we move through the world. I get it, really. For a long time, I focused my narrative on my past. I talked endlessly about all the mistakes I had made and all the ways I had erred. I wasn’t just holding myself accountable, I was engaging in endless self-punishment. Here’s the real truth: it didn’t do anything for me. I didn’t feel stronger or lighter or smarter. I just felt defeated in all the ways. I felt immovable.
When I started to explore my experiences, and even my pain, with a softer lens, that was the first time I felt like I was moving in the right direction. That was the very first time I realized that I didn’t need to be right, but I also didn’t need to be wrong. There was this whole middle space I could exist in where I asked myself what behavior- proactive and reactive, would have served me better. I asked myself why I was dishonest, why I didn’t leave, why I thought the situations I was involved in suited me. I didn’t ask those questions with the intention of punishing myself, but to cultivate hope, that I could perhaps avoid those situations that made me want to forget them, to change them.
Maybe that’s all it really is- maybe when we live in a space of regret, we fail to cultivate hope.
And without hope, I don’t think we have anything at all.
So maybe, in the end, it’s all about choosing hope.
Hope and a big, bold, beautiful journey.
X
L.
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