Ultimately There Is No Knowing



mind-narrows

As a mother, of course I assume that I know what’s best for my kids.  As a technology expert of more than two decades, I certainly know my way around a mother board.  And while I may on occasion go overboard in my appeal, it is only because this place of perception seems so spot-on in the moment.  If I hone my selective amnesia, I can easily come up with a long list of evidential proof that my instincts are accurate.  As for any incongruities?  Let’s just say my memory is a bit fuzzy in that regard.

So I know what I know, and I believe what I know to be the truth at the time I am in the I-know-zone.  But if by chance or Grace, a flash of insight allows me to briefly leave behind my own belief, there is a deeper knowing still, that reveals the fallacy of my conviction.  Even my emotions are not what they appear on the surface.  The myriad of peptides that create habitual patterned responses do not always tell the real story behind the outrage, sorrow or ecstasy.

Am I really hungry in this moment, or am I perhaps tired or stressed?  Am I angry about the broken window, or the broken promises that litter the path of my past?  Are the tears forming in my eyes really about the thoughts I am thinking right now, or the hormones flowing through my fallopian tubes today?  Or can I feel energy from another sentient being and mistake that for my own?  Ok, that is probably even a little too far fetched for my quasi analytical mind today … and at the very least deserving of a shaggy dog story for another day.

For any experience, I may make the assumption that there is a cause for its creation.  But what seems closer to the truth is that there are many causes that contribute to the creation of each experience and it is only that my over-developed dissective impulses, which I continue to see and attribute only the influences close at hand.  Handy yes, for the meaning making machine of the egoic mind.  The illusion of knowing helps to build up the false self to a state of impenetrable density that we not only believe in our own existence but somehow distort perception further to believe our existence could somehow be threatened by the absence of knowing what comes next.

For now at least, in the space of this stillness that has drifted in under the radar of my conditioned mind, there is a bit of freedom if not joyful bliss arising in the notion that I may not know anything at all.

Leave a Reply