The phrase poured out of my mouth like poetry this week- I don’t know. It was a steady rhythm during my rather turbulent week.
I caught myself saying it to my wondering husband, schedule-loving daughter, curious clients, and whispering it to myself in the shower.
What once was a sign of my ignorance or detachment from a situation, I don’t know has become a survival mechanism in a world forcing me to take a stand, have an opinion, become an expert, excel at everything, and have answers at my fingertips.
This might fly in the face of intentional living gurus, but the percentage of life we can actually manifest, positive-think, and plan our way into is probably much lower than we care to admit.
Even as a Type-A, list-loving, goal-oriented person who thrives in clarity and control, most of life hasn’t unfolded the way I imagined it would.
the calendar is not a god but a guide.
my actions do not always determine the outcome.
my thoughts and beliefs are meant to evolve.
answers mean little because they always heed more questions.
the maps I cling to are never about obtaining clear directions, they are but hints, vague ideas of what is to come.
life carries me down its river, spluttering and splashing the whole way, while my quaint canoe remains on the shoreline.
Saying I don’t know grounds me in the fluidity of life, where I can honor the elements of surprise and welcome serendipitous moments with excitement.
I can time block the finite details of my day down to the minute. I can structure the next year, marking out my steps towards success. And yet, life can’t help itself- it wants to wander, take its time, and spin-off down circuitous streams.
We can choose to see ourselves as victims of life’s flowing river, drowning and flailing in uncertainty, or we can be the swimmers, flapping our arms wildly, having fun finding our way through, and humbly moving forward into greater realms of mystery.