Mistakes are part of LIFE. But can we measure the cost?
When we are kids, everyone around us tells us that we learn by making mistakes. Parents, with patience, teach us to walk. They hold our hands and wait patiently for each step we take forward. They carry us on their shoulders when we get tired.
Once we start walking and talking, they teach us words. They take care of every need. But now, if we make mistakes, they teach us what's bad and what's good. They don't hold our hands anymore — because we can now think and understand. Life goes on.
We get older, and we still make mistakes. Now the question is: "Till what age are we allowed to make mistakes?"
Yes, mistakes are part of life. And we might ask, "How is this even associated with age?" Mistakes can happen at any time, to anyone — agreed. But the equation of LIFE isn't the same anymore. Because it's not about ourselves anymore. We live in a society of people. Whatever we do carries a direct, proportional effect on the society or the people we live with.
We might say that we live alone and have no responsibility or accountability. But ask yourself one more time — "Can I really live by myself all through my life?"
Now say we made a mistake. On paper, it might seem small. But what if it starts creating a ripple effect? We can tell ourselves, or try to let others know, that it happened involuntarily. We might also say that we didn't notice it, that we were careful, and that it definitely wasn't intentional.
Living in a society, we will be held responsible and accountable. And unknowingly, we've already given others a chance to speak. We might say we don't care what others think. But ask yourself once more — "Do I really not care?"
We all know that it's easy to sell a false narrative, and it travels faster than the truth ever could. At this point, we start thinking: it's not just us who made this mistake, and not the first time either. Others have been spared, and we haven't. It seems unfair, doesn't it? Asymmetric, even. But did anyone ever guarantee us that things would be symmetric?
By now, everyone knows. Some might judge us. Some might question our integrity, ethics, character, and more. The close ones might say, "We're with you, and we hear you." The ones we know might feel sorry. Others might show sympathy. But in the end, it is you — and only you — who has to go through it. The one who will, and should, face the consequences.
So what should we do about it? People tend to offer the same handful of answers:
- Accept it and move on.
- Forgive yourself.
- Life is unfair.
- Travel. Talk to people.
- Meditate. Surround yourself with positivity.
Take a moment to think about these. Each one might offer a part-time sense of relief. But my real question is: "Can you truly forget this over time?" People say that with time, we forget. In my honest opinion, that's not entirely true. We get busy with life, and we don't let ourselves think about it — or we don't get the chance to. But when life hits us again, everything feels alive and fresh once more. You start feeling the old memories in your bones.
So I started thinking about this. What is that something which can fill the emptiness left behind? How can we smile again amid all the turmoil, within and without? Here's my take.
Imagine we have a beautiful bowl, one we're emotionally attached to because of a memory. One day, it slips from our hands and breaks into pieces. Now what do we do? We can pick up the pieces, throw them away, and replace it with a new bowl. Or we can gather the pieces, carefully join them back together, and give it life again. But a broken bowl doesn't look the same — much like a broken mirror. So imagine we fill the visible cracks with gold. Suddenly, the bowl becomes unique, drawing in everyone who sees it. It becomes valuable all over again.
If we had simply thrown away the pieces and replaced the bowl, wouldn't that be the same as accepting it and moving on? Replacing it might be the simplest solution. But I believe giving the broken bowl a new life brings far more satisfaction and meaning. It shows that you care.
Let me offer one more example. Say we throw a sharp stone into a flowing river. By its nature and weight, it sinks. The sharp stone believes it can cut through anything that touches it. But the water does something remarkable. With its steady flow, it brushes against the stone, day after day. And one day, the stone loses its sharp edges and becomes smooth and polished. No — that's not the end of the story. Here's the more interesting part.
Did the flowing water ever intend to change the stone? Did it even know the stone was sharp? Did the stone lose any of its weight? And could it still hurt someone if thrown at them again? It could. But now, at least, you can hold the stone — because of its smoothness. It no longer cuts you, or anyone else.
Now, sit with that for a moment.
Just as the bowl regains its life and value, and just as the stone keeps its weight but softens its edges — when we make a mistake and don't learn from it, we slowly start accumulating frustration, and frustration breeds anger. Eventually, we start losing something far more important than we realize: our smile.
Whatever the consequence, whatever the cost the mistake demands — if you lose yourself, if you lose your smile, you lose everything. You can only truly be happy when you can look back at it, in the end, and smile.
You might ask — Didn’t you make a mistake before? Here is my answer:
If I wouldn’t have made, I wouldn’t be writing this post.
