If you feel lost, try this.
I tried an, “I don’t know,” meditation the other night, recommended by Soulsign Astrologer, Adam Gainsburg.
It’s a simple practice. Just sit with yourself quietly, eyes open, and say, “I don’t know.” No matter what crosses your mind, come back with the phrase, “I don’t know.” Settle into it. I. Don’t. Know.
The purpose is to get comfortable with the idea that we don’t know. There is so much mystery and change and chaos right now. And it is OK to not know what to do. To not have a pat answer. To be confused or frightened or lost.
I. Don’t. Know.
I sat with my feet in the bathtub, soaking in Epsom salts, and said, “I don’t know.”
I don’t know what sort of changes are rumbling up from the basement of my life.
I don’t know how much longer my mom will live.
I don’t know whether I should buy a car or lease one.
I don’t know when I might meet someone tender and new.
I don’t know if the people pulling levers of power know what they are doing. (Actually, I do know that. They don’t know what they are doing. At. All.)
I don’t know if I should go to the shelter and adopt another cat. (Edgar B. died almost a year ago. Perhaps I should add to my brood. Maybe I need another breathtaking, young cat to love me completely. Perhaps we need a little girl. Perhaps we do.)
I. Don’t. Know.
I don’t know why stars fall or crocus bloom or birds chatter as they take flight. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or lie down on my bed and watch the clouds move.
I don’t know what will happen if the changes I see coming transpire.
I don’t know how I will survive the losses I feel mounting each day.
This simple meditation slowed my mind, took it out of its worry loop and sat it down next to me where it could get quiet.
I realized I am not my thoughts.
I am the soul, the spirit that houses those thoughts, but they are not my essence.
I think sometimes it is hard to remember that.
It is hard to keep hold of the threads of life that tangle and fly, as we perform acrobatics, on the back of this galloping-horse of a world.
It runs like the wind and tries to shake us off. It gleams with sweat and the smell of grass.
It feels like our own bodies as it moves beneath us.
I don’t know where we are headed now, but I know I will hold on.
I will spur this horse to take me in a direction that is sustainable, beautiful, open.
I will ride toward these wild, open fields of I don’t know, and wait for you there.
Everyone has a book inside of them. Everyone has a story. Wouldn’t you love to share yours with the world? Get your free writer’s toolkit, packed with tricks and tips to get you started. Just do it. Don’t wait. Don’t die with an untold story inside you.
© 2017 Shavawn M. Berry All rights reserved
Feel free to share this post with others, as long as you include the copyright information and keep the whole posting intact. If you like this piece please share it with others. You can like me on Facebook or Twitter to see more of my writing and my spiritual journey on my website at www.shavawnmberry.com.