I Don't Know

Admission:  I am terrified that I am going to do something wrong. I am terrified that I'm going to make a mistake, to miss a sign, to choose wrong. I often feel--physically, mentally, emotionally--quite caught, tangled up in a web of my own making. These days, this web is barb and wire and when I move in one direction, I'm pricked by some painful memory, some jolt of fear, some wave of sadness or regret or longing. Which way do I move? What choice do I make? Admission: I am so tired of trying to figure it out.

My mother, who has always been and will always be one of my greatest soul mates, said this to me on the telephone last night: "Just do what you want. Do anything you want. Do all of it." She said it with a laugh, which made me laugh, and lighten up a bit, and lightening up is a good thing to do: remember--it's not all so complicated. When you're in the middle of huge transition, it's okay to spend a good amount of days waking up too late, going to sleep too late, doing this, not doing that, writing that person a letter, not writing the other letter, bailing out and mailing neither, choosing yes, choosing no, simply because you want to in that moment. Deep in transition, it's nearly impossible to see far down the line; what's visible is really only the next moment in time, and the tenor of that moment--all its specific desires and sour tastes.

It's really damn easy to say "I don't know". In almost all conversations I have, I have a tendency to follow up my thoughts and statements with a reflexive "I don't know". This has often bothered me about myself, because these three words seem to negate my own authenticity, my own experience, knowledge, and curiosity, which, in fact, I do know, and well. On the flip side though, I like to see this refrain as a symbol of something else I always want to have, and something I deeply respect in others who have it: an open and welcoming mind. The capacity to admit limits in understanding, ability, and intellect. Those who can do this are those who are humble. I like them best, and I want to be like them.

Still, saying "I don't know" and feeling--living--"I don't know" are two very different animals. One can be tossed off the tongue unconsciously, instinctively; the other is much deeper, and it cuts to the quick of what transition is--a period utterly swathed, no room for breath, in not knowing.

All of this sounds rather depressing and hopeless, and there is that, too, but I'm also coming to believe that there's simplicity in this state of being; maybe even a bit of lightness, as my mother reminded me. If we can own up to what we cannot do--right now; if we can admit to feeling paralyzed by indecision--right now; if we can simply make choices--moment to moment, and train our minds to feel some brand of tough love for the not knowing...then I think we'll be okay. I think the web will loosen.