If only we’d gotten that house in Corbett, we’d be home by now!
If only we’d bought land back in the ’90s when we were looking.
If only I’d stuck with writing all those years ago, I’d be published by now!
If only I was calm, confident, & peaceful…
If onlys get in the way of what nows. What now or what next supply action. If onlys bring on enervation. They take your mind back to the past and send it down possibility tangents. The maybes, what ifs & why nots all cluster close with if onlys into a tangled pile of Regret.
It is difficult to build a strong foundation on a pile of regrets for they are very slippery.
At one time, in my youth, I declared a war on Regret. I would never regret a choice I’d made. I’d chosen. I acted. No regrets.
If only I’d been the ballerina I dreamed of being. If only I stayed on the stage instead of hiding backstage, so I could express the actress I know I am in my heart. If only there were dance lessons when I was little or I’d kept up piano lessons (and practiced!) Yes, it may be so that I have some secretive if onlys lying about in there.
And yet, if I’d wanted to, I would have. And I didn’t. I kept moving and changing; not living a life of single minded goals pursued relentlessly, but one of various exploration, discovery, interpretation & integration. If only I’d had a clear motivation to heal, create or be I would be a psychic healer, an artiste, a swami-ji.
Instead, I am me: eclectic explorer, expressive entrepreneur, ecstatic evocateur.