Two Ply

If I could magically take you back in time to when you were 16, 25, or even 35 again, what would you do differently when you got there?

Most of us can immediately conjure up a specific memory, or four, and almost instantly see the forks in the road where we should have made a left instead of a right. It’s also easy to imagine our current upgraded selves stepping in to right those many wrongs and save the day.

There is a critical caveat to this thought experiment, however, that I forgot to mention.

When I take you back, you don’t get to take the intervening years with you.

Without the gift of hindsight in place, the answer to what we’d do differently becomes simple:

Nothing.

We would make the same choice with the same limited perspective and raw emotions we had the first time.

Wisdom isn’t a replacement for the past; it is a direct product of it. We didn’t grow despite those choices; we grew because of them.

Although we live in an age where the ability to know anything we want is everywhere, we seem to understand very little. Information is everywhere, yet wisdom is nowhere.

So why isn't knowledge enough?

Growing up, my father would tell me to "measure twice, cut once" more times than I could count. A solid piece of knowledge that I can vividly remember turning into wisdom, when I measured once, ruining a board, and sheepishly realizing that no amount of further cuts was going to make that board any longer.

Wisdom and regret are really the same story, just told by different narrators. If we’re not careful with the story we tell, our perceived failures can accumulate over time and turn into a filing cabinet of proof that we can no longer be trusted to make the next move.

So, how do we begin to turn our trail of perceived roadkill into the yellow brick road?

Consider this example, one I think most of us can relate to:

An acquaintance or colleague at work or school asks for a favour, usually in the form of money.

Your first instinct, a split-second gut reaction, is no.

And then the "sell" begins.

“Come on, I thought we were friends! Remember when I helped you out with that email and then bought you those fries? Look, I’ll even write you an IOU.” I’ll have it back to you by Friday, I swear.”

And the negotiation with yourself begins. You weigh the social pressure against the potential embarrassment of being "the mean guy” and eventually overrule your gut and hand over the money.

"Next Friday, right?"

"Next Friday!" they reply.

We all know the ending. Friday shows up, and they don't.

What’s the first thing you say to yourself?

"I knew it!"

And that is when our mind usually plays its most devious trick by saying, "See? You can't trust your yourself,” and then proceeds to file that memory into the cabinet.

But when we slow down for just a second and take a closer look, you’ll see that your instinct was actually correct and said "no" right from the start.

And that’s the switch. Not a hope or affirmation, but a clear, data-driven fact.

The problem wasn’t that you couldn't trust yourself at that time; it’s simply that you didn't.

Muhammad Ali once said, “If a man is the same at 50 as he was at 20, he has wasted 30 years of his life.

Much of our societal friction comes from the impossible demand that everyone be on the same page. Although we’re all part of the same book, we must recognize that we are all in very different chapters.

The young are on their way up, trying to build wisdom and confidence, and the old are on their way down, just trying to find some peace and contentment.

Our discord lies in trying to convince ourselves that we were never like that, while they, sometimes quite vocally, declare they’ll never be like us.

The reality? We were like that, and they will be like us, at least to some degree.

As the 19th-century French proverb goes, if you aren't a liberal at 20, you have no heart; and if you aren't a conservative at 40, you have no head.

The world is going to change, and you will, too, hopefully with greater wisdom and less regret.

So to my young friends, I say, tell the truth and embrace your perceived mistakes to extract the necessary wisdom so you can move forward with greater strength and confidence.

And to my older friends, I say the same, so you can move forward with greater peace of mind.