We live in a world that worships certainty. To know, to define, to control — this is the currency of the mind. From the earliest age, we are trained to seek answers, to fix problems, to shape our lives according to a clear trajectory. But the spiritual invitation — the true invitation — is radically different. It is an invitation into not knowing.
Not knowing is not ignorance. It is not a failure of intellect. It is not confusion. It is a sacred openness. A humility. A resting back into the groundless ground of being.
When we come to the end of our strategies — when the mind can no longer fix, when no belief or effort can hold back the storm — there is a crack. And through that crack, grace can enter.
To not know is to stop holding on.
To not know is to let life be as it is — without imposing our story on it.
To not know is to be present without reaching for escape or grasping for outcome.
There is deep rest here. A softening of the inner fight. A melting of the armoring. And slowly, a deeper intelligence — not of the mind, but of being — begins to reveal itself. This intelligence does not speak in concepts. It speaks in silence, in stillness, in the quiet sense of "yes" to what is.
It is often only when we give up the demand to know that the truth of this moment can be met.
Not the truth as an idea. Not the truth as something you can grasp and hold. But the living truth — fluid, open, alive — that whispers through everything.
When you are willing to rest in not knowing, something in you relaxes into the unknown. And here, the mystery of life begins to reveal its deeper face — not through answers, but through intimacy.
You do not need to know. You are already held.
Let yourself be breathed by life. Let the wave carry you. Let the mystery unfold — not according to your will, but according to its own rhythm.
This is deep rest. This is peace.
Next online public meeting - Saturday July 19th
Thank you for reading.
"Let yourself be breathed by life. Let the wave carry you. Let the mystery unfold — not according to your will, but according to its own rhythm.
This is deep rest. This is peace."
What a scary and exciting invitation.
But then again, I suppose Life has been breathing me my whole life, and the mystery has been unfolding whether I noticed it or not.
Thanks for the beautiful reminder. 🙏
Your post landed deep. Especially this: “To not know is to stop holding on.”
Whew. I felt that.
It’s taken me years — decades really — to even begin to experience not knowing as something other than a threat. For most of my life, I didn’t just seek certainty, I clung to it. Trying to understand, to plan, to get ahead of what might hurt — that wasn’t a personality trait, it was survival. I didn’t know that back then. I just thought I was intense. Overthinking, overpreparing, overeverything.
And I wasn’t aware of the inner fragility underneath it all — just the irritation when plans changed, or the quiet shame of procrastination when I couldn’t bring myself to move forward. There were years where “not knowing” didn’t feel spiritual. It felt like being frozen in place.
Your words helped me remember how far I’ve come. It’s been about 15 years since I lived in that particular kind of freeze, but reading this brought the contrast forward in a good way. There’s a softness now. A compassion toward that part of me that thought certainty was the only way to be safe.
I don’t need it to be different anymore. I can see the intelligence in what once looked like dysfunction. And there’s a real kind of peace in that — not performative peace, but the kind that shows up quietly and says, “You’re okay. You’ve always been okay.”
As I turn 55 this week, that feels like the deeper knowing:
That I don’t have to know.
That I can live with the mystery.
That I’ve got me.
Thank you for the beauty and clarity in your writing. It’s more than words. It’s a mirror. A reminder.