There are a few things I know.
I know that when I truly look at my experience, when I examine it closely, when I peer into the silence that occasionally arises, I see nothing. A vast, all encompassing nothing.
I know there's nothing I know. That there is nothing, seemingly, that I even can know. (Nothing that can be put into words, anyway.)
I know I want to know, and I want to believe that someone somewhere knows.
So when someone or something claims to know, I'm very tempted to believe.
These knowers go by many names. Politicians and political parties, religions and preachers and theologians, commentators and philosophers and ethicists. CEOs, even. Parents. Friends.
All trying to come up with an explanation, or rules of the road that apply to them and everyone else. For those of us who are not so gifted. And often these knowers judge those who don't know, or who think differently.
Some claim to know what we should do. What is right and wrong. What the future holds.
And I really want to believe them. I really want to believe that someone knows.
I've met plenty of people I wanted to believe, and some who I did believe. And they didn't know.
None of them knew. Sometimes it took me awhile to figure this out, but it always happened eventually, And the ones who seemed to be most confident, most articulate, most capable turned out to be the ones who were least likely to have a clue.
I want firm ground. And there is none to stand on.
At first that was terrifying. Because that means I'm in charge (and so are you). That means I have total freedom (and so do you). No rules. No expectations. No limitations. No failure, and no success. Just experience.
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