How old FB memories reveal I know more than I think I do.
Say what we want about social media, but I think the Universe is divinely timing these reminders I've written almost a decade ago to show me that I definitely know more than I think I do...
Here's a recent flashback post I thought I'd share here, because the messaging is still relevant.
I've been loving the reminders I'm getting on my personal FB page recently, of all the ways I used to be more tapped in. I'm so excited to be getting back to there.
"Over the past couple of days, I got lost in forgetting that the mystery of things is where we learn the most about ourselves, our relationships, our faith. It's where we get to be surprised! But, being in that space of the "not-yet-knowing" means being vulnerable, and man oh man, how often do we strive not to be there? To just know already, dammit!
I've been talking to friends who are just as attached as I am, in some way, to certain outcomes — or even people — and it's constantly surprising how easy it is to go from living in that pure place of truth to holding hands with our egos, getting pulled into areas of thought or being that are simply not good for our heads and our hearts.
The more we want it to be *this way* rather than who-knows-what-way, the more we grind our heels in the dirt of control, rather than getting pulled up by parasails so that we can soar to much higher heights.
I said to my friend Tanya this morning, "People say that I'm smart, and I always look at them curiously, because that just doesn't make sense to me. The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know, so it's hard for me to hear when they say that."
The more we think we know what's best, rather than surrendering to the idea that we often have a limited viewpoint of what's possible, means that we truly can't comprehend how awesome things could be if we just let them be.
One night recently, I was talking to my friend Tim, and telling him, "Y'know, I think that my audience for what I'm doing with yoga and writing is this big," and then I wrapped my hands around an imaginary circle the size of a grapefruit in my hands. "But, I think my audience and what I'm doing might actually be this big." Then I expanded my circle to the size of a cantaloupe.
"Actually," Tim replied. "I think that what you're doing is THIS big." And he took my arms and widened them to my full wing span, then added his long arms into the mix until our arms bumped against the windows of the car we were sitting in.
That's what the Universe believes for you. It believes all the goodness you hold within and all the potential around you is T-H-I-S B-I-G.