Last week I posted a blog examining past choices made and asked: “Would you do it all over again?”  One of my friends read the blog and asked me: “What if you killed someone or caused serious harm to someone, would you choose to do that again?” 

That’s an extreme yet powerful and honest question. One which isn’t easy to imagine or consider but does require a response.

The idea I presented in last week’s blog is not that every past action was “right” or that we’d want to repeat harm — it is that once something has happened it becomes part of the moral and spiritual work of our lives to seek understanding, accountability, and transformation.

If someone had done something devastating — like taking a life — the meaning-making wouldn’t come from justifying the act, but from how they live afterwards. 

Catalyst for Change

Do they face what they did? Do they seek forgiveness, change, or make amends? The goal is to take responsibility for past actions and to allow the experience, however dark or harmful it may be, to become a catalyst for deeper humanity.

In that sense, “Would you do it all over again?” becomes “What did you learn from what cannot be undone — and how has it changed the way you live now?” 

When I talk about “doing it all over again,” I don’t mean that harm should ever be repeated. I would never support or encourage that type of action. But once something has happened, it becomes part of our moral and spiritual journey. The meaning isn’t in justifying what was done — it is in what comes after: taking responsibility, seeking forgiveness, learning, and living differently.

Even from our darkest moments, we can choose to become more awake, more humble, more human. In that sense, meaning-making isn’t about erasing the past — it’s about transforming it. 

The Weight of Responsibility

Taking responsibility for our choices and actions doesn’t erase the past. It transforms our relationship to it. It asks us to look directly at what we’ve done and to bear the weight of it consciously, not defensively.

In the act of facing the choice and not turning away, meaning begins to take form. It is fragile, painful, and deeply moral. It is where remorse becomes an opening rather than a wall.

The Mystery of Redemption

It’s about redemption.

Redemption isn’t a reward for goodness; it’s the miracle of becoming more human after we’ve failed at being human. It is not found in forgetting, but in remembering — differently. With eyes open, with heart humbled, with an unflinching willingness to be changed.

Perhaps that’s what meaning-making truly asks of us: “Not that we’d choose our past again, but that we choose who we become because of it.”

So the question shifts once more: “When what’s done can’t be undone — can you still become someone capable of love, truth, and grace?”

The Path of Transformation

Transformation doesn’t mean we justify our wrongs; it means we allow the truth of them to remake us.

To seek forgiveness. To make amends. To live differently — as if our second chance was not deserved but is still possible.

In this way, even the darkest act can become the soil from which the seed of empathy grows. The story doesn’t end with the harm. It continues with how we carry the knowledge of it forward in our life, in our future choices and actions.

In Love and Light,

Denise

In the first chapter of my book, Between Friends: Sharing, Healing, Transforming, I ask the question: “If we all knew it would turn out this way, would we still do it all over again?”

Later in the book this same question is asked of each woman about the stories they have shared with each other. 

We’ve all asked this question at least once. I know I have. It sounds simple – a basic question about regret or choice. But this question creates a profound philosophical paradox. Is it really a question about choice or perhaps a question about selfhood and causality?

In a discussion with my oldest son, he expressed his disapproval of a decision I made many years ago. He stated that his judgment of my actions created a difficult position for him, however, because if I had made a different choice then he wouldn’t exist today. So even though he disapproved of my action, in some selfish way he also had to at least accept it because his existence depended on it. I found that discussion and his reasoning very enlightening. 

What’s the Answer: Yes or No?

My son was correct. If I said “No, I wouldn’t do it again” then he wouldn’t exist and I, the person I am right now – shaped by all my choices, my mistakes and past experiences – might never have come into being. Every decision – the beautiful ones and even the ones that led to sorrow or loss – becomes part of the chain that constructs our current consciousness – the person we are now. To reject a past experience is, in a sense, to reject the person who has emerged from it.

However, if I say “Yes, I’d do it all again” I’m now accepting the inevitability of suffering as a teacher. This is similar to Nietzsche’s idea of amor fati – “love of one’s fate,” which means loving everything that happens – not just accepting it, but embracing it joyfully as necessary and meaningful. Nietzsche wrote: “My formula for greatness in a human being is amor fati: that one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity.”

Now, I wouldn’t say that I love everything that has happened to me. I can’t even go as far as to say I that I like all my past choices and experiences. However, I can accept them as valuable lessons and be grateful for the wisdom they have provided me. 

I have chosen to create meaning out of my choices and experiences. Transforming suffering into understanding, chaos into coherence. 

Both answers to the question above suggest that healing is not found in rewriting the past but in understanding and integrating it. So, I don’t have to love every experience, but I can honor them and be grateful for the person they’ve helped me become.

Therefore, maybe the real question isn’t “would we do it all over again,” but “having done it, can we love the person we became?”

Moment of Reflection

Take a moment today to think of one event — a choice, a loss, a turning point. And ask yourself: 

“What part of myself was born during that event or decision? What wisdom, what gentleness, what courage grew from it?”

And then ask yourself, quietly, without judgment:

“If I had to do it all over again – not to change it, but to understand it – what would I see differently now?”

Share Your Reflection

If you want, please share your reflection or thoughts with us here so we can grow and understand together. Your words of wisdom might guide someone else in their meaning making of a choice or experience. Or in their future moment of decision making.

In Love and Light,

Denise