A devotional to not knowing.
Art by Fei Alexeli
I notice that between periods of creative output, are these spaces where everything slows.
I used to fill the void
with intense neurosis and fear.
if I’m not doing something
how can I be worth anything?
now I feel safe to be still
my capacity to sit in boredom gets stretched
to feel uncertainty inside it
to hear my mind say:
what’s next
what’s next
what’s next
am I missing something?
should I be doing something?
without compensating
for not knowing
with distraction.
a while ago I ran a group container
on the alchemy of feminine rage and grief
and I remember a woman speaking to the shame of not knowing.
how many women do you think have felt that same humiliation?
how many women
have been conditioned
to crumple inwards
when they can’t see?
witnessing the mystery
open out before you
and calling yourself a failure
is a psyop.
projecting abandonment
rejection
and unworthiness
onto the emptiness
is a psyop.
it stopped washing with my brain
when I realised
my willingness to not know
is the only way
life ever makes sense.
Hey, my name is Rae. I am a spiritual mentor to gifted, high achieving women, who’re learning how to let go and come home to God.
I write poetry because it helps me express what prose cannot. All those places where I go too wordy and over explain shit into a hole, poetry lays out bare.
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