Fundamental Bewilderment

One weed I often want to yank up from my experience is the weed of bewilderment, of confusion, of feeling lost in the dark, not only unclear of what is ahead, but with nothing beneath me either.

Why can’t I just be wise and insightful, seeing into the patterns of life while existing slightly apart from them—always?  Instead I find myself, over and over again in complete confusion, thick inside my life. Sometimes I think, “Oh, I’m really getting comfortable with confusion.  Here I am in a muddle, meeting the muddle without resistance, letting it be as it is, move as it moves.” And then some thought of progress or spiritual evolution creeps on to the movie screen of my existence and within days, hours, or seconds I’m plunged into complete despair—frustrated, railing, miserable.

But the truth is there is a lot more we don’t know than we know whether we know it or not.  I mean, who the heck are we spinning around in infinite space?  How do our bodies work, what makes us tick, and what team is going to win the next World Cup?  We don’t know. Sure, we know a few relative things, and we have made up great stories about all kinds of things (what happens after we die, how the camel got his hump).

And the truth about not knowing more than we know is also that, as often as this feels like a problem or something we won’t even admit to ourselves, it is actually the doorway into reality.  Not knowing, fundamental bewilderment is the beginning of listening, of opening to the unknown, and curiosity.

And sometimes it helps to have a hand to hold, a wall to lean against, or some sort of anchor as we descend into darkness or comprehend the power of the light. One anchor I turn to is gravity.  It may not be the whole truth, but it is a relative truth with weight and form I can work with in this moment.  It provides a fluid anchor with which to meet bewilderment as I lie on the floor  and stand up on two feet and move with the earth around the sun.

Exploration

Take some time to consider what you don’t know.  Make a list. Start big (where the universe ends) and don’t shy away from small (what tomorrow holds in store). Notice what we don’t know about ourselves, and then reflect on what we don’t know about others.  Then notice what we think we know and be curious if we are right.  The next time someone asks you something you don’t know, consider the possibility of saying, “I don’t know” instead of coming up with an answer.  Try out being bewildered and if you are already bewildered listen to what the unknown has to share.

This post is part of the series The Weeds of Listening and includes the post The Energy of Anger and Two Kinds of Disappointment.

Photo credit: NASA Goddard Photo and Video