One must not hold one’s self so divine as to be unwilling occasionally to make improvements in one’s creations. ~Ludwig van Beethoven
Do you honor your intuition (instincts, hunches)? How often do you trust it enough to do what it’s suggesting?
I receive intuition often, but I don’t always honor it, especially when my intuition seems to conflict with my logic.
In those instances, I may let my logic talk me out of things that my spirit is telling me to do, or not do. Much of the time, my instincts prove to be of merit. I see that life would have been better had I followed them on the occasions where I didn’t.
Recently, I was beating myself up for not heeding gentle nudges to pause and not take the action I felt compelled to take. I was so sure I was thinking right that I did it anyway. Just a couple of minutes later, I realized why I had being guided to pause. It turns out I hadn’t fully understood the situation.
By acting against my intuition, I borrowed trouble when everything was actually okay. Thankfully, I know that the fastest way to peace when I've messed up is to make the needed reparations for my words or actions. For me, that part comes easy. The second part does not.
The second part is to forgive myself for making a mistake. I grew up in an environment where I believed mistakes were to be completely avoided. I usually felt humiliated and ashamed in the way that I was corrected. As a young adult, I took over the punishment for my errors by beating myself up with endless shame and judgment. I’m still learning to accept that I am human and mistakes are natural.
An argument with myself followed my recent decision to ignore my intuition. One part of me said what I needed to hear, which was, “You’re human, you made a mistake, it’s not a big deal, and it’s over. Forgive yourself and let this serve as a beautiful reminder of how wonderfully human you are.”
The other voice was shaking its head, wagging a finger and saying, “I told you not to do that. If you had just listened, you wouldn’t be in this pickle. There’s nothing you can say or do to undo this mistake. You’re going to lose friendships. You’ve ruined your day. Maybe next time you’ll remember this incident and all the ones before it, and you will respond perfectly from now on.” UGH. This is the virus we CAN stop.
All that really happened is that I received another example of why it’s a good idea to listen to my intuition, even when logic can’t back it up.
Making mistakes is great for my pride. It reminds me that no matter how much I learn, I will never achieve perfection. Continual pursuit of personal growth leads to awareness. But, awareness does not always lead to right action. Knowledge is powerful but the pursuit of right action is the real journey that I’m on. Learning to quickly forgive mistakes is a big part of my journey, especially when the mistakes are mine.
After making necessary apologies and corrections, I had to take steps to restore my own peace and serenity. I stopped listening to the shaming voice and declared boldly to myself that I am human, inherently beautiful and perfect, not above making mistakes, and always deserving of grace and mercy. I made a choice to embrace self-love, self-forgiveness and self-compassion. We all deserve an endless amount of that kind of self-talk!
Does this hit home for any of you? Do you catch yourself in a battle between your nurturing mind and one that puts you in hell for every little error, every wrong choice? We don't have to allow that destructive mental chatter to go on and on. I haven’t found a way to prevent the negative chatter from starting, but I have learned it’s nothing but lies and I'm getting better at stopping it quickly.
If you are dealing with negative self-talk today, I hope you can say, “Cancel, delete," and stop this virus. Replace it with the truth: you are wonderfully human and perfectly imperfect. Remember, if we’re doing our best on any given day, and if we’re trying to grow and be better than we were yesterday, that’s all anyone (especially ourselves) can ask of us. And that’s good enough.
