I Don't Even Know What Title I Want To Use

They say to write about what you know.

The deeper I get into contemplation, though, the more I realize how little I actually do know.


I've started several blog posts recently.  I have dozens of ideas scribbled in the page corner of my journal, text-messaged to myself, and once this week, written in ink on the back of my hand.

I have so much I want to share, so much that I want to discuss.


And yet, this is the post that needs to be written....because these ideas WON'T SHUT UP.  If this makes me look unprofessional, so be it.  If you came here look for art, for insight, for some tips on finding mindfulness in your day - this post isn't going to help.  

So why am I sharing it here, out in the open, instead of scribbling it all down in my journal and retreating to a long warm bath?  

Because this is just as important as any of the other wisdom I might try to share.

This is the stuff that often gets ignored.

We often don't talk about those times when we simply have no fucking clue.


We walk around thinking everyone else has it figured out.  We scan blogs that offer, "10 tips to mindfulness" (yeah, I might have written one of those somewhere) and purchase books that tell us how to find our TRUE career path and how to eat so we can avoid GMOs and toxins and never ever get cancer.

We think someone, somewhere, has the answer to everything we need to know.

How to write a blog post.

How to lose 10 pounds.

How to sleep better, eat better, how to be the person we want to be.


No one is calling the emperor out on his "new clothes".

We almost have ourselves believing that everyone else really IS wearing something prettier, pricier, and more desirable.


So I'll start.  


I've no solidly-woven ideas that I snuggle into, no certainties that I pull on every morning, no expert labels stitched onto any of my adornments.


I woke up this morning, did my yoga, 20 minutes on the treadmill, and got both kids on the bus.  I watched an hour of an online course I'm taking, and got my fake-chicken in the oven.  After I type this, I'll meditate, take a nap, write some more, and maybe get the grocery shopping done.

I have emails to respond to that I have no words with which to respond, course materials I want to finish developing, but no ideas of what to develop right now, and a book I want to write...but no creative inspirations of what in the world to write.  My web site, my art, the blank canvas, the kids' rooms - I want to organize and creatively develop them all.


There is the wisdom to just begin.  And I could just start writing - an email, a chapter, a different blog post.  I could just start painting, or chopping veggies for dinner, or folding laundry.


Instead, I'm starting with this.

This wildly annoying but equally fascinating admission of not having a clue.


I have many things I NEED to do, many things I WANT to do, and many things in between.

Outside, the rain falls in a scattered mist, and I wonder, of all of these things to-do, what really matters?  Bold contemplations, yet the timer on the oven still counts down.  Lunch will be ready soon.


So here I am.  Here we are.

Spacious unknowing.


No big ending.

Just this.