Making Space for Not Knowing

The result of doing our work is we open up new space inside ourselves. We empty ourselves of frozen detritus and free ourselves from self-restricting walls. When we do this, it’s important to fill that newly minted space with something good. Otherwise the cunning Lower Self will slip inside that gap and set up shop.

First up will be re-educating our inner child. This part of ourselves took off with wild conclusions about life. We must now surface these misunderstandings and see that they don’t really hold much water. That wrong thinking must be replaced with something right, which is the truth that sails in when we invite our Higher Self to join our party.

Accompanying our new understanding will be an infusion of divine energy that fills the void created by our healing work. This is the peace that surpasses all understanding; this is a glow that fills our cup from an unending spring of vitality. We would be nuts to not take a moment and drink our fill. Our work here is to imprint our soul substance with our new awareness and this experience of our true ground.

One of the hardest things for our ego mind to do is nothing. We’d rather jump to conclusions, keep working the angle, and otherwise keep ourselves safe with our amazing ability to figure everything out. Trouble is, our ego doesn’t have all the answers. Never has, never will. It’s just not that deep.

The greatest service our ego can offer is to stop making up stories. Instead, we need to start accessing that great mother lode of wisdom, courage and love: our Higher Self. Plugged into that outlet, the ego can let go and give up its anxious efforts to run the show. This means, though, the ego will need to exercise some restraint and learn to hang out in “I don’t know”. Doing so may momentarily cause us to panic.

The ego would rather cling vicariously to wrong conclusions than let go of its trapeze and wait in limbo for greater wisdom to unfold. It’s happier grasping at straws than admitting that, “Sorry guys, I really don’t know where to go next”. This ability to remain in not knowing is another spiritual muscle we must work to develop. And this one, like so many others, may not come easy. With time though, we’ll get the hang of how to go through life with an open, flowing energy system that makes room for new awareness and allows God to lead the way.

So the unitive plane takes a little getting used to. Until now, we’ve mostly known black-and-white thinking. Then rigid rules take the place of flexible creativity, and change has been generally considered an anathema. But that’s the hardened framework of duality and not the fluid, dynamic structure we find when we’re plugged into the Oneness.

When we’re living in the land of unity, the effort of being organized will become self-rewarding and self-perpetuating. We’ll continually avail ourselves of opportunities to know ourselves better by taking every disharmony to heart and exploring what is there for us to learn. Frankly, this is not what most folks usually do.

Over time, this better, alternate reality will grow to occupy more and more space inside us. And each time we walk through the doorway of duality and remember another way of being could be possible, we will get closer to entering all the way into God’s kingdom. We’ll recall our connection with all that is.

The road is long and this path is not an easy one to follow. But one way or another, doing the work of healing is the only way to arrive at our final destination: we’re going home. Be blessed. Go this way.

In Jill’s Experience

I studied the teachings of Kabbalah for four years, and one of my favorite meditations we did in class was called The End of the Road. It goes something like this: “The ego is never going to get the awakened state, so you might as well just let go. Stop trying to save yourself. This is the end of the road. There is nothing to do. Just let go.”

That’s not what we usually do though, is it. In my case, part of my strategy for survival was to try to figure everything out. It’s like some part of me is always trying to get the puzzle pieces to fit. In fact, I now understand I have a really good puzzle-maker inside of me, and when pieces don’t fit together right, she gets anxious.

I’ve learned to listen to her. She’s like an early warning system that throws flags when something doesn’t add up. And she’s extremely perceptive. Trouble is, she isn’t always right. More accurately, she doesn’t always have all the information. Turns out, I don’t know everything.

That’s part of what it means to be human. Our window on the truth is never going to be foolproof. From where we sit, our ego can’t and won’t ever know everything, and we must come to terms with this. Otherwise the ego won’t let go. From the stance of my ego, I will constantly think I can run the world, when truth be told, I’ve got my hands full keeping my own little ship afloat.

What I try to do is listen to her, and when things don’t jibe, I try to get curious. Instead of drawing conclusions and making judgments, I try, as the Guide suggests, to give the other the benefit of the doubt. With a willingness to be open and often a little fear in my gut, I can check things out: “Here is what I see and here are the conclusions I’ve made; can you help me see what I might be missing?” It never fails to amaze me the shift that occurs when I open up to more truth.

In Scott’s Experience

Sitting in not knowing has been like the “sound of one hand clapping.” It’s weird. And it’s been tough to know if I’m “doing it right.” Sometimes it feels perfectly natural, like floating on my back in a pond on a warm summer evening. Sometimes it feels like that time I ran over a rope while mowing the grass; I get it all wrapped around the axle and stall the engine.

There is a Buddhist practice of sitting in silence and allowing your thoughts to come and go. To observe that thoughts arise, and then allow them to pass like clouds floating across the sky. I have found this practice very helpful for sitting in the unknown. Occasionally inspiration floats in, and I realize, “Oh, I see, go that way.” More often, I see the stories I make up about the “not knowing” float by. Eventually, I recognize the very soft voice that lies under the louder thoughts and opinions that float by. It is very calm and knows “all is well.” This was one of my first introductions to the unitive state. This practice also, eventually, allowed me to see some of the structures of my psyche underneath my thoughts, structure that creates the fight against not knowing.

I still struggle sometimes in discerning when and how to use my active creative powers to create something, or to try to change something in the world versus when to sit more firmly in the stillness of receptivity, listening and allowing creation to unfold spontaneously. I have found this especially challenging in my professional life during times when I have become dissatisfied with my role in a company. My ego-self would like to move on, and quickly at that, to “more fulfilling” work. But life often conspired to deliver pauses, sometimes for quite long periods, when no shift would happen. Life has asked me to use these times as opportunities to explore the places in my psyche that oppose sitting in not knowing. Often the most unexpected inner growth happens out of these seemingly forced pauses.

Experiencing the unitive state and my Higher Self has been very helpful in this exploration of not knowing and moving toward wholeness. It has been helpful for me to realize that experiencing unity is a process, and it’s typically a slow one. Two decades ago I read descriptions of the unitive state, and it sounded unattainable. In fact, I had utterly no idea what the words actually meant in terms of a real experience. Later, and at seemingly rare times, a vibrant stillness, peace, and tranquility would wash over me. “Oh!” I would exclaim. “So that’s what those words meant!” It might last only for a few minutes, but I would have a glimpse.

More recently I have recognized being in a dynamic and interactive process of entering more into the unitive state. After a profound prayer for a direct experience of Christ consciousness, I experienced an influx of divine Light so strong as to cause me to have to lie down while my subtle bodies pulsed with that fine vibration. Parts of the veil seemed to lift away. In the months after, some aspects of my life became quite challenging and began to slowly crumble.

When the veil starts to lift and everything inside starts to shake, it can be tempting to float off into the astral and leave your body behind. But what was being asked of me was to do the opposite—to inhabit my body more fully, not less—and to “sink” my full sense of self-presence deeper into my energetic bodies. With that, more Light came in, shaking loose more parts of me that did not vibrate with that high frequency, and allowing those parts to release and transform. Then I could sink even deeper into my body and energy bodies. It’s been a dynamic, living, experiential process.