Accepting the state of unknowing

The beautiful horizon as seen from Mission Peak. Beyond the hills, the Pacific. A great and glorious unknown if ever there was one.

Imagine you've got a writing assignment. You're supposed to read the prompt and set a timer for ten minutes and write your thoughts as they come, without editing as you go.

The prompt is: "I accept..."

What would you write? What comes to mind?

I began with: "I accept the unknowing."

Fortunately, the world gives us constant opportunities in every moment to try out this difficult practice in small ways. As I type, there's a noise outside that I don't recognize. Maybe construction work? I'm tempted to turn away from my writing to the window.  

But this prompt reminded me to ask, "Do I need to know?" What a liberating question!

Another way of saying this is: Can I control my attention?

There's wisdom in carefully, maybe ruthlessly, editing what receives my attention.

In a culture where it can be deemed irresponsible to not find out, to always know, to know with 100% certainty, perhaps there's wisdom in allowing for some not-knowing.

This reminds me of a scientific approach to thought. People often think of scientists as people who spout answers. But my best friend is a scientist, and many of our friends are scientists, and our post-dinner conversations are almost never about what they know, and almost always about what they don't.

The questions are the interesting part. We seek the edges of knowledge, the vast terrain of unknowing beyond what we know or think we know.

So, I accept the unknowing. Maybe I learn to relax in the unknowing and enjoy the questions. Maybe I learn to celebrate and welcome the unknowing. I simply keep practicing.