The Freedom in Not Knowing

“It’s in seeking, not knowing,
that we find truth.”

Liz Wiseman

I don’t know
and in that, I am free

Chetna Mehta

I had just tested positive for Covid-19 and was beginning my 10-day isolation period. The Delta variant, as well as bouts of grief and rage, were streaming through my blood as I was quarantining in a house in Westminster, CO with heartbreak thick in the air between a newly-minted “former partner” and I. With us was our beloved adopted dog, Nejma, who I wanted to run away with as soon as possible, though her strong propensity to bite the ankles of any unfamiliar humans that crossed her was also a bit of a…barrier.

If you told me about this amalgamation of unfortunate circumstances 8 months prior, I would’ve said, “holy shit, that sounds like a complete nightmare.” In fact, years before, I had heard about a friend who had to live with her ex for a month before moving out and fear immediately flowed through me as my brain reacted with, “that sounds like the worst, I never want to be in that situation.”

As a cherry on top of a shit pile, the media was blasting bits of information like, “the Delta variant is highly contagious, more than 2x prior variants” and “some data suggest the Delta variant might cause more severe illness than previous strains.” In these days of Omicron, the Delta strain is stale news, but at the time, it was a tender topic.

The deep anguish that I was experiencing simultaneously was tender too. My 7-year partnership had tragically though necessarily reached it’s sudden end. I was being called to shift my life entirely, to let die what we had built over the years, and to step into something completely new… and utterly unknown.

The one thing my heart did know was that I needed to return to the Bay Area to be close to my family and friends. The rest, I was in the dark; I had no idea where I’d live, how to get there, whether I could bring Nejma (whether she wanted to be uprooted), what to take, how to move my stuff, how to break the news of my forthcoming divorce to my family, how to file for a divorce, and so many other swirling and bombarding questions.

On a Monday- two days prior to getting my Covid test results- I began to develop a vivid fantasy of driving from Colorado to California with Nejma and a trunk-full of my things, stopping in New Mexico and Arizona to camp along the way of a liberating road trip rooted in self-trust and transformation. I’d go to my parents house for awhile before figuring out my next steps and I would leave promptly later that week. Ha! I knew precisely what I was going to do!

…This (false) knowing, like “knowing” often does, gave me a sense of safety, security, and control of the uncertainty; helping me cope with the existential dread of the vast unknown. It served its purpose…for a whole day and a half.

The Universe had other plans.

On Tuesday, I learned that my parents’ rental property does not allow dogs (and Nejma is not a dog that could go under the radar; she’s loud, gorgeous, makes dog friends easily, and unabashedly claims her space).

On Wednesday, my test results came in and Someone somewhere up there exclaimed, “Bitch, you need to stay put and chill the fuck out (WE GOT YOU).”

Of course, my mind was frazzled and resistant to what was happening. “Now what the hell am I going to do?!” “I’m stuck here!” “What did I do the deserve this?!” “Why me?!” “I hate everything!” Time felt as heavy and slow as bitter molasses. I felt hopeless, scared, pathetically sorry for myself and incredibly scarce.

I was in a painfully uncomfortable space between no longer and not yet, in the darkness of liminality (that state of transition between one major stage and the next, like a rite of passage). My ego's drive to protect me by "knowing" and controlling for the future was highly inflated and hyperactive.

Ten days felt like a prison sentence. I became more tired by my mind’s relentless and futile attempt to problem-fix. There was too much I didn’t know, there was too much I couldn’t figure out in the moment. I couldn’t go anywhere, and that was that. I eventually fell to my knees in surrender.

…Surely I was assisted, surely there are forces that are on my side rooting for my well-being. I chose finally to leave it to Them. My inner gaze shifted from me to beyond me. This realization allowed me even a little bit of space to laugh at the absurdity of this multi-layered situation (and then some) that I had feared for years.

Yet there I was, still alive and breathing through it.

A few days later, I was talking to my dear friend, Shilpa, and in my space of surrender, there was room for my curiosity to ask how she was doing. This was surprising for me, even in the moment, as it could’ve felt so necessary to dwell in my own crisis as a way to control it. But I seemed to have been trusting that I was being supported even without knowing exactly how.

Shilpa then told me that she had an opening in her backyard tiny house in Berkeley CA, which was a 3-6 month Artist Residence for an artist to live in, make art and tend to the garden. She shared this casually, not knowing that I had been thinking about moving back to the Bay Area.

“Wait…. what?! Are you serious???”

In this moment, the sky above me felt like it opened up to deliver a gift right in my lap. I rejoiced in my full body for the first time in weeks like I had finally come up for fresh air after drowning in seas of fear and grief. And Shilpa said she’d happily reserve the space for me whenever I’m ready.

In the days and weeks to follow, I practiced trusting that I am supported and that I don’t have to know exactly how, when, where, or what. Day by day, things fell into its own (not always my own) place.

Nejma gave me clear communication- as I made space for her to be heard- that she did not want to go on a road trip, camp in new places, live in a tiny house in the Bay Area, or leave what she’s known. It was a painful choice to make for her sake, but we eventually returned her to the kind and welcoming woman we adopted her from. Nejma is now living her best life on a farm with a bunch of dog friends and one loving human who she loves too. She showed me what kind of mother I could be, and I’m so grateful for my time with her.

I allowed my move to be an invitation to minimalize my life and take only what brings me joy (my art supplies, books, some clothes and shoes, and a bunch of house plants, basically). And I did do a road trip rooted in self-trust and transformation, stopping along the way in Santa Fe and Sedona; a journey that was also so divinely assisted. I rented a car and got an amazing deal on a Jeep Grand Cherokee with tinted windows so I could off-road in comfort while my stuff remained safe. I stayed in a luxurious Santa Fe home of two friendly folks with an artful aesthetic who welcomed me in for free. My loving friend of 14 years, Nadia, met me along the way where both my grief and glee were fully present, and we had an inspiring experience hiking amidst magical red rocks and admiring the clearest of night skies.

As challenging and painful as those months were, I was (and am) so profoundly guided and supported in ways that I don’t even know. As I open myself up to the relief of actually not having to figure it all out within the confines of my own mind, I feel FREE.

I’ve been living in the tiny house (what I’ve been calling my “womb-cocoon” a.k.a. Casita Soluna) now for almost 4 months. I’m close to people I love and who love me, I’m gestating, healing and resting, creating and manifesting. I am trusting while not knowing much of what’s to come.

There have been- and will continue to be- abundant opportunities to surrender to what I don’t know, to choose to believe that I am assisted by forces far beyond my own power, to use my mind to ask questions, and to humbly allow revelations in divine time.

I share this story from 7 month ago as a reminder to me, and to you if it serves you- We don’t have to know. Surrendering to not knowing can be a beautiful opening to expansive and unfathomable possibilities, and a way to actually collaborate with the present moment, with others, and with the Universe.

RESOURCES

“He was attracted to this edge of unknowing,
of hope and fear, he instinctively knew that surfing it was
precondition for growth and transformation. And for feeling alive.
Waking up and going out into the world not knowing what each day would hold, taking life as it comes, relinquishing
any illusion of control. That's fresh.”

Matt Padwick

READ

• The power of saying “I don’t know” via Forbes

PLAY

• Games and gatherings to honor the mystery of play via my friend and Moon Times contributor, Natalia and Ludic Liberation

REFLECT

• What’s the question you’re holding this year?

• How does what I know get in the way of what I don’t know?

• What stops you from admitting that you don’t know?

• What might you access (freedom, joy, peace, ease…) in the permission to
  not know?

Less than a month after I moved to the Bay, my Uncle Vani introduced me to a deeply transformational experience via the Landmark Forum (talk to me about it if you’re curious!). I adapted what I learned there to create the above reflection.

We may know some things

Things that guide us on a daily basis and inform how we interact with our environment. For example, I know my love languages are affirmation, touch and acts of service, I know how to make some delicious Kichidi thanks to mom's lessons, how to hold a grief circle, and that Trevor Noah is a dope comedian (I believe that’s a fact).

We may also know that we don't know even more things

For example, I know that I don’t know how stars are formed, how to speak Gujarati fluently, how to play the flute (yet), how to balance the soil in the garden, I don’t know what liberation beyond capitalism and patriarchy looks like systemically, or how to properly twerk, or frankly how to live a good life without spicy snacks.

Then there’s what we don’t know that we know

Past-life knowledge, or things deep in our subconscious mind or ancestral wisdom could all fall in this category. I think about Dr. Brian Weiss’s book Same Soul, Many Bodies about past-life regression therapy and how under hypnosis, people can suddenly speak Mandarin or recall in vivid detail a time in their past life during which Jesus was alive. Often, I take a guess at something that I don’t believe I know but somehow it’s spot on and I realize, “wow, there’s a lot floating in my subconscious mind,” a whole glacier beneath the surface of “knowing.”

Then there's a shit ton of stuff that we don’t know
that we don't know

To me, this acknowledgement feels simultaneously like a glitchy mindfuck and a massive relief. My ego goes radio-silence... All I can do is laugh, shrug, let go. This realization helps me lean back and lay off my heavy foot on the accelerator of my life, driven toward specific ambitions and expectations within mainstream thought of known reality. It's amazing how much my perceived life, identities, perspectives and existence dwell within the limited bounds of what "I know" about myself, others and the world.

Remembering that there’s way more I don’t know that I don’t know invites me to TRUST and allow SPACE for possibilities far beyond what "I know".

UPCOMING GATHERING SPACES

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