Photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash
Have you ever arrived at a point in life and realized you are not who you think you are at all?
Like zilch.
The rug pulled from right under your feet.
It’s scary and, at times in the past, depressing. But all in all, I see it as a joyful celebratory event now, despite the uncertainty. Like another level in a game has been unveiled.
For example, my girl turn a full-on teen this year,
and I once again know nothing about parenting.
I also read a book challenging every single way I perceived my senses,
and the world now looks and feels different.
An authentic sharing from a trusted friend throws me into the deep end of questioning everything single thing that I thought is a given about marriage and love.
Tears, grief, sadness, and reminiscing are all part of the journey;
so is excitement, anticipation, and new learning.
Once again, I decided,
I know nothing…
Of the order of life and correctness.
Of the nature of mind and existence.
If I thought that I have understood anything at all…
I was wrong.
Yet it would also be wrong to say
I knew nothing at all.
For I now know something
about knowing nothing.
I am never gonna arrive,
I have decided (for now).
At least not the way I believed arriving was…
A false finishing line, completion, or accomplishment.
But always a beginning,
a pregnant emptiness.
Arriving at the beginning
of potentiality, possibilities, and creativity…
again,
and again.
