I often fear what

I don’t know.

I get the feeling that life’s greatest moments of bliss, life’s most loving surprises are built into the unknown.  I get the feeling that the unknown is what shows up in the face of the ultimate egotistical moment and smacks me right back down.

And yet, I don’t really know.

I look at myself in the mirror, I smile.  Am I happy?  I look at a picture, the people are smiling, are they happy?

I don’t know.

I schedule my day, my life, this hour.  I prepare for joy, for sorrow, for … something.

I don’t really know.

The past is a story.  I look back and find meaning for the future.  What will I learn if and when I do this again?

I don’t know.

The future, is it as determined as the past?  It comes, again and again and again.  It’s here now, now I mean now, no now, now, now, now.

Ugh, I don’t know!

I’m convinced that something won’t come, won’t happen, but then it does.  My mind is blown!  I’m ecstatic and outside of myself.  Joy, pure joy, stemming from

I don’t know.

I’m convinced that I know what I cannot know.  Maybe not the details, but in general.  I know what I do know and, thus, the rest is what

I don’t know.

The project is done, the presentation coming to a close.  The hand raised.  A question asked.  The answer

I don’t know.

A quest is a journey.  The destination

I don’t know.

By now, it’s obvious, I don’t have all the answers.  Do you?

I don’t know.

But together, the I don’t know is smaller and,

I don’t know,

but somehow that simple fact puts a smile on my face, tears of joy sparkle in my eye, I grab your hand, we face the world together and I’m able to say with less fear and more excitement,

“I don’t know.”