certainty | David M Masters

I’ve been thinking about time travel lately. No, not because I built a flux capacitor in my garage. And no, this isn’t one of those moments when I try to convince you that Elvis is living on Mars with three government accountants and someone’s pet iguana. Relax. This is just one of those little thought experiments that wandered into my head, sat down, and refused to leave.

Let’s suppose, for the sake of conversation, that someone actually could see the future.

- Maybe they have a crystal ball.
- Maybe they have a sophisticated quantum machine.
- Maybe they simply had one incredibly vivid glimpse of tomorrow.

Here’s my question. The moment they tell you what they saw… haven’t they already started changing it?

Imagine someone says, “On October 17th, the bridge will collapse.” Well… now what?

- Do people stay home?
- Does the city inspect the bridge?
- Does someone reinforce it?
- Does traffic reroute?
- Does a construction crew accidentally discover an unrelated problem that saves thousands of lives?

In other words, the prediction itself just entered history.

- It became another variable.
- It didn’t merely describe the future.
- It participated in creating it.

That’s why I’ve always been a little cautious around people who confidently announce, “This is exactly what’s going to happen.”

Maybe. Maybe not.

If the future is alive, then every decision, every conversation, every warning, every prayer, every act of courage, and every unexpected kindness becomes another pebble thrown into the pond. The ripples keep changing.

Even Charles Dickens understood this. Ebenezer Scrooge wasn’t shown the future so he could panic. He was shown one possible future so he could change the present. That’s a very different lesson.

Now, before someone writes me a strongly worded email… No, I’m not dismissing prophecy.

If God intends for certain events to unfold exactly as He has declared, I have absolutely no interest in debating His ability to accomplish His own purposes. I suspect He is entirely capable of protecting His plans without my assistance. This article isn’t about arguing with God. It’s about remembering that most of us aren’t Him.

Most predictions we hear, from experts, influencers, anonymous internet accounts, neighbors, or the guy at the coffee shop who always seems to know somebody who knows somebody, should probably be held with open hands. Take the insight. Leave the certainty.

Use the information to become wiser today instead of becoming obsessed with tomorrow.

There’s another reason I like this approach. Fear spreads quickly. Certainty spreads even faster. Curiosity slows us down just enough to ask better questions.

- “What if?”
- “How do we know?”
- “What could I do today that would make tomorrow better, regardless?”

Those questions have improved far more lives than panic ever has.

If someone really did invent a working time machine, the smartest thing they could do would be to keep their mouth shut. Because the instant they announced what they saw, millions of people would begin reacting to it.

- - Politicians.
  - Investors.
  - Scientists.
  - Criminals.
  - Journalists.
  - Neighbors.
  - Entire governments.

Suddenly the future they reported wouldn’t be the future anymore. It would become history’s first draft. Maybe that’s one of life’s lessons.

The future isn’t simply something we discover.
It’s also something we participate in.

So, if tomorrow offers you a glimpse of itself, through wisdom, experience, prayer, intuition, good counsel, or even one of those wonderfully strange conversations that makes you think, you don’t have to cling to it.

Receive what is useful. Become a little wiser. Make one better decision today. Then let tomorrow continue being wonderfully alive.

After all, the best way to improve the future has never been arguing about it. It’s living well today.

We all want to feel like we know. It gives us a sense of safety, security, and control. But in this ever-evolving life, in a world layered with complexities, belief systems, manipulation, and infinite unknowns, declaring certainty can be the most dangerous gamble you’ll ever take with your credibility.

There’s an old saying that goes, “The only thing I know is that I know nothing.” And if you’ve been awake for more than a few decades, that statement rings truer every year. Every time you dig a little deeper into any topic, health, politics, religion, science, even love, you find that what you thought was true starts to wobble, sometimes even crumbles. Because the truth, my friend, is not solid concrete. It’s more like water. Fluid. Shifting. Reflecting light differently depending on your angle of view.

The Seduction of “Knowing”

It feels good to have “the answer.” To say, “This is the way.” Especially when something worked for you. But asserting that your experience equals universal truth? That’s a trap. That’s the foundation of cults, not consciousness.

You see this especially in the healing world. People who overcome illness using a particular method, say, juicing, ozone therapy, fasting, or parasite cleansing, suddenly become evangelists. And while there’s immense value in testimony and personal experience, saying this is the only way, or this is the best way for everyone? That crosses a line.

“When you focus on any one, you do a disservice to creation, which has provided you with everything that you need for optimal health.”
– David M. Masters

There are at least 250 methods that people have used to reverse cancer. That’s right—if you search (even using filtered platforms like Google), you’ll find everything from dandelion root to hyperbaric chambers, frequency therapy to emotional healing. Which one is the way? The answer: it depends.

Why “Knowing” Can Be a Lie

Every system, every field, every “fact” you were taught in school… it all comes with a slant. A context. A limitation. And sometimes, an agenda.

Just because something is widely accepted, repeated, or taught by experts doesn’t make it true. And just because something worked for you doesn’t mean it will work for everyone else.

The truth, if we dare to even call it that, is that your reality is built on layers of experiences, beliefs, interpretations, and half-truths. And the deeper you go, the more you find that everything you know… is only part of a much larger picture.

“The main thing is that there is a good chance that everything you know is a lie, or at least, only a sliver of the truth.”
– David M. Masters

And even if someone could show you “the truth,” chances are…

“You couldn’t handle the truth anyway.”

So What Can You Do?

You stay curious.
You stay humble.
You keep learning, and you keep evolving.
You listen to others with an open heart.
You share your truth without needing it to be the truth.
You choose what works for you—yes!—but never assume it’s the only way.

You embrace critical thinking. You test. You observe. You accept that the map is not the territory, and that everyone’s journey will look a little different.

You stop making declarations and start making discoveries.

Evolve or Expire

Inflexibility is the death of wisdom. Life is not meant to be mastered through doctrine. It’s meant to be danced with. And your best dance partner is not certainty—it’s wonder.

It is far more empowering to say, “This is what I’ve found so far,” than to say, “This is it, case closed.” Because the moment you stop growing, you stop living.

Truth is not a destination. It’s a process.
And the wisest among us… are always in motion.

So next time you find yourself about to declare that you know something for sure—pause. Take a breath. Leave room for possibility. Because all things are possible.

And that, my friend, is about as close to truth as we may ever get.