Knowing

It’s solstice and I feel like writing.

And it is a full moon.

Longest day. Quickest night. I am floating.

Or rather I am learning to float. Learning to feel out my surroundings, my directions, my path.

Learning to let go of this idea of knowing.

Because, I simply do not.

And it’s not so bad, not knowing. Because in not knowing, I am making room for knowing to come in.

I could so easily say I know and head in a direction - and that would be great - if my goal was simply to go somewhere.

But that is not my goal. At least not in the exclusive sense. I am not going somewhere in particular.

I am going many places at once - with great vigor and excitement and a distinct sense of curiosity.

Because. Because I don’t know. And I’d like to know more.

We talked about this idea. That there are two kinds of “I don’t know.” One means you haven’t looked for an answer at all - it’s passive.

The other happens when you have looked and looked but you can’t come to any conclusions. And often, I think, how could you?

Anyone in their right mind has got to look around them at some point, shrug, and say “Well, I’m boggled. But isn’t it fascinating?”

I’d like to approach this point in a tangential, instantaneous-rate-of-change sort of way:

I don’t know, then I know some, then I know a little bit more, then I know a lot, then nothing at all.

And I am SO excited to live every step of the way.

To love my loved ones, to celebrate - to dance and be in awe.

To watch the full moon rise, on the summer solstice, 2016.

And to practice floating.