The beauty of uncertainty
Truth doesn’t depend on me to define it. –Sy Safransky, founder and editor of The Sun
Yesterday at an antique mall, I bought a beautiful Noritake dish. I’m not sure what it is–a celery dish? a relish dish? it’s oblong–and I definitely don’t know its pattern name. It has a white ground surrounded by a peach (non-lustre) band, with black edging and a gorgeous Deco floral pattern.
I did a little searching to try to determine the pattern name, with no luck. Then I remembered the beauty of uncertainty.
One of the best things I’ve ever learned was that I don’t need to know everything. This works out well, because it turns out I can’t know everything.
When I was much younger and still in the mindset of the fringey fundamentalist religion I was raised in, I had most if not all of the answers. If you asked me, I would tell you. For years I kept my head buried in the sand, like a child playing peek-a-boo with the truth. Eventually I was forced to acknowledge that I really didn’t have the keys to the Universe. They’d crumbled as I gripped them tightly in my hand.
Perhaps now that I’ve released the need to understand everything, I know far more than I did before. I now believe that Love is the key to the Universe. What more do you need to know than that?
There’s another advantage too. Recently I was recounting an experience I’d had, and the woman I was talking to moved closer to me and said, “That’s bullshit!!” with great emphasis. She told me that because neither she–nor her husband–had ever experienced her interpretation of what I was talking about, it simply didn’t exist. Good to know.
So the other advantage is, if you don’t think you know and understand all the mysteries of the Universe, or even those of this funky little world we find ourselves in right now, you’ll probably never find yourself shouting “Bullshit!” in someone else’s face. I am thinking that can only be a good thing.
Here’s to not knowing it all.