I told me so…


I suppose it is reassuring that as we become more attuned to reality, our ability to perceive the potential consequences of our actions is heightened and more concrete.


But I am not so sure I always like being ‘more aware’. It’s a bit like being your own parent…. You can see the future, the results of your actions…. and you can almost guarantee there’s an “I told you so” in it. You put in your two cents worth, claiming having been ‘there’ before, that ‘only pain will ensue’. And then you play the waiting game, shaking your head occasionally at your stubborn stupidity which in turn shakes it’s own head back at the boring and out of touch parent you can be.


We long to be more wise in hindsight of our own disasters, yet we still don’t always embrace that wisdom when a new situation presents itself that requires a do or don’t decision. Something that we want, that we know we want for the wrong reasons, despite our intuition and spiritual advancements.


Ah ‘reason’. That human ability to make right seem wrong, and wrong seem attractive. To work through a challenging situation and come out with just enough brownie points to tip the scales in your ‘favour’. Perhaps even for a while quieting that sick feeling that you might be acting like an idiot, and the worse feeling that you know you are.


We live (mostly) and learn (sometimes) from our mistakes. But sometimes you can be so aware that a potential upcoming decision is such a major fork in the road, that no amount of reason or thought arrangement, can quell that sick feeling. It’s not a matter of hurting animals or stealing money from an old lady, it’s just your future. The next how ever many years playing out either one way, or another. Both hold some happiness, but one holds more, and the freedom to be fully authentic.


Still, it’s possible no one else would know. You’ve been there before. Heck you probably still have the lines from the scenes the last time you played the role. All those other happy people, living their lives through work, family, kids, hobbies. How many of them read from their scripts everyday, blissfully unaware they have the wrong one. That they were born for a different role altogether. You were one of them, and you eventually hated it.


So why the reluctance to embrace the alternative path now? Is it because the script is partially unwritten so you are unsure how the story ends? But that’s the thing of being authentic in life, it doesn’t matter if you don’t really know what you are going to say or do tomorrow… In just being free to be you, what comes to you, is what’s right for you, and everyone else your life affects for the rest of their lives too.


It’s a little upside down. The more authentic and wise we are, the less road maps and scripts we need. In worrying about what we will do or say about right and wrong, we start to tie the hand intuition has in our everyday lives. In thinking more about the consequences, we use fear to shackle ourselves to doing the ‘right’ thing so we don’t get hurt or mostly ‘found out’. We need those scripts to feed ourselves, and we starve our inbuilt radars which are far more accurate in such matters.


Our openess and fearlessness of who we are without preconceptions or ego, provides us a blank slate of possibilities that are all perfect at the right time. Truly knowing right from wrong depends on it, as does the courage to choose the right path every time.


Although it does seem to me that the wiser we are, the less choices we have to make. Those paths that lead to “I told you so” don’t even show up on our GPS. They just don’t exist because we would never be tempted to choose them. Life can become a clear path when we focus on who we truly are and want to become. Our talents and gifts become real to us and we use them to bring joy to ourselves and others. We see the trees and flowers along the way, not the pitfalls and bear traps. The path becomes a country lane in the sun, not a bumpy road of noise and chaos.


It’s about focus. Not ‘what will happen if I do this?’ but ‘who am I?’ The latter solves a whole lot more than the former. Of course I do expect to say “I told you do” for many years to come. But maybe every year, I’ll shake my head at myself a little less.

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One comment on “I told me so…

  1. Kerrie Butler says:

    Always a pleasure to read your thoughts, thank you for sharing this beautiful gift. Sending love Kerrie

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