The Joy Of Not Knowing
I believe in I don’t know.
Each curious cause for making life’s mysterious and unpredictable pattern brings me excitement. The willingness to let go, and fall back into the hands of fate brings me the strangest security. I know that I will be taken wherever I need be, and that not knowing right now, is okay.
When my friends from high school would stay up studying until 3 in the morning, raking in extra credit points, juggling three varsity sports at once, jamming as many electives, extra curricular activities and community services as humanly possible before they cracked under the pressure and stress, I’d be leisurely completing assignments, writing songs and traveling. I was doing everything that made me happy. I wasn’t worried about the so-called “consequences” because it was my life, and I figured everything would work out. I’d rather enjoy every day than be squashed with worriment staring at an intangible future. My friends would then show me their whole life planed out in an elaborate spread of pie charts, and PowerPoint’s then turn to me ask, “So what are you going to do with your life? Where do you see yourself in the next fifteen years?” I would smile and say, “I don’t know.” I love ‘I don’t know’. It’s the simplest way of saying that life is too beautiful and too abundant to get pinned down to one path when there are so many years ahead of me that could lead me in so many different directions. I love not knowing. I love not knowing what’s going to happen tomorrow, or the next day, or even the next couple of years.
‘I don’t know’ holds a kind of beauty and real satisfaction for me that would drive most people crazy. But there is in fact a true serenity to trusting the universe to guide you to the perfect place. A river never stops flowing. It never pauses to choose a safer route, to lift up over sharp rocks, or frantically toss a rope around a nearby tree to save itself from the fast approaching waterfall. It just continually flows, following the carved paths that cradle it, and trusting the bedding beneath it.
‘I don’t know’ has given me opportunity. It has given me strength and surrender, but most importantly it has given me my whole life, unplanned and eager to be explored.