I don’t know squat

By: Rebecca Liston

Of all the things that I could write about in these strange, surreal times…during a stretch of time and space in which it’s possible that I should be trying to be inspirational or up-lifting or make you smile…I find myself thinking one thought repeatedly, and I wonder if you are, too.

So I am going to share my One Thought because, Dear Reader, it’s all I have:

“I don’t know.”

That’s it. That’s all. Just that. It rattles around in my mind and comes out of my mouth more often than any other sentence perhaps ever has.

*****

“What’s for dinner, mom?”

“I don’t know.”

“When are we going back to school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are sasquatches real?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

And that’s just what’s happening in my home. In about 3.4 minutes of conversation with my 10 year old.

*****

Turn on social media for a minute and it happens. Again.

“We should stay home! Don’t you realize it’s the only way to stop us being annihilated from this virus?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t believe people are protesting! What’s their problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“There’s way more going on here than just some virus, don’t you think?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

*****

And then, it’s bedtime. And my husband turns to me:

“Should we just move out of the country? Get that little place in Mexico we’ve talked about?”

“I don’t know.”

“I wonder if this is the time to learn to fish lobster. At least we could then feed ourselves if we moved to our property on Cape Breton.”

“I don’t know.”

“What the &*$&# hell was that guy thinking when we went out and killed all those innocent people in Nova Scotia, babe? I mean – what the actual hell?!?”

“I. Don’t. Know.”

*****

You see, folks, I don’t know jack squat (as we like to say here in Canada).

And, truth be told, no one else does, either, even though they often would tell you otherwise.

And not knowing is exhausting.

Not knowing is tiresome.

Not knowing requires me to sometimes sound like an idiot.

And so, if you, too, are tired of the Not Knowing, here’s the One Thing that is saving me right now. Perhaps it will help you, too.

I am countering each and every one of my “I don’t knows” with something that I DO know. And here’s a tip: Your brain doesn’t know squat, as we’ve already determined here today, but other parts of you? They know everything.

And I do mean everything.

*****

“What’s for dinner, mom?”

“I don’t know,” says my brain.

“I would really benefit from some carrots tonight and a side of red meat,” says my body, who DOES know.

“When will we go back to school, mom?”

“I don’t know,” says my brain.

“It doesn’t actually matter,” says my heart. “I kinda like having you home and the freedom feels darn good.”

“Are sasquatches real?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” replies my frustrated brain.

“Duh, of course they are!” responds the Angel that I channel. “Sasquatches. Fairies. Dragons. You name it! Real!” she exclaims with glee. And let’s be honest, if anyone really does know about this, it’s likely gonna be an Angel, right?!?

*****

Okay, so you can see how this can work at home, but what about on social media? Does this work there, too? You betcha.

“We should stay home! Don’t you realize it’s the only way to stop us being annihilated from this virus?”

“I don’t know,” says my brain.

“It feels fine to me, today, to stay home,” says my body, “not because I am afraid to be out, not because I am scared of death, but because I am tired, and being out of my home causes me too much stress which will harm my natural immunity, and then I may be susceptible to illness.”

“I can’t believe people are protesting! What’s their problem?”

“I don’t know,” says my tired, wee brain.

“I bet they are afraid,” says my Higher Self. “Many people are losing everything because of this economic collapse. They want to work to feed their families. It’s what they know to do. I appreciate that about them.”

“There’s way more going on here than just some virus, don’t you think?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” says my brain.

“Isn’t there always more going on than meets the human eye?” says my Spirit Guide, winking at me, and smiling, knowingly.

*****

And then, with my husband, this works, too.

“Should we just move out of the country? Get that little place in Mexico we’ve talked about?”

“I don’t know,” says my brain.

“Ahhh, Mexico,” I sigh as my body expands into the idea. “Ocean air, warm breezes…they’re good for me,” my body explains. “I say go for it!”

“I wonder if this is the time to learn to fish lobster. At least we could then feed ourselves if we moved to our property on Cape Breton.”

“I don’t know,” says my ever-helpful brain.

“LOBSTER…LOBSTER!” cries my body, hungry for some fresh seafood. Oh, you can be sure my body knows how good an idea this is!

“What the &*$&# hell was that guy thinking when we went out and killed all those innocent people in Nova Scotia, babe? I mean – what the actual hell?!?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” says my brain, once again.

And…well…by now you know how this ends. For there is, in my tool-kit, the ability to know exactly what he was thinking when he did the terrible things he did, but I am, for everyone’s sake, not sharing that with you today. There are some things that one can Know that you don’t always want to Know, you know?

*****

I expect you’re seeing where I am going with this.

This is not a time for Brains to be leading the way, Dear Reader.

Brains, though powerful and fantastic – I am a big fan of brains – are not helpful right now because, despite their many talents, they are useless in times of chaos and panic and deep, deep uncertainty.

It’s time to connect with the parts of you that DO know. Your Body, your Higher Self, Spirit, Angels, your Heart…they Know stuff. And connecting to them, getting your Knowing from them, well, I believe it is the only way forward from here, my friends.


Rebecca Liston is cofounder and business intuitive at Las Peregrinas, a creative and consulting agency. She specializes in anchoring folks in a clear-eyed understanding of which path is theirs for the taking. She’s got one foot in the land of the subtle and unseen, and the other foot firmly planted in the land of ruthless pragmatism. Oh, and she swears like a sailor, which makes us love her more.


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