Friday, October 21, 2011

31 Days: Letting Go of Certainty



Back in the good ol' days, when I thought I was so smart and on top of things, I enjoyed the sensation of believing that I could be certain about my place in life, my place in the world.

I believed my cute starter home paved the way to my forever home and henceforth, I began making proclamations that I would never move again, that I would never leave my town, that I would grow old and wrinkly at the end of that longish lane.

Well, who could've known that I'd wrinkle so prematurely?

I don't know what it is about this life that deceives us into believing that it's the big, bad point. This here? Is it. Or so we tell ourselves.

It's been a long road already and I'm not even close to the end of it, but I'm starting to finally catch a glimmery glimpse of the truth: we were never made for this.

And if that's true (it is), then there's no reason to get attached to things like a bank barn that could split your heart down the middle for all of its beauty in the hazy light of early morning. It's okay to appreciate these things. It would be foolish not to. But wide planked floors and flower gardens that stretch around a home like a hug are fleeting. They hold no promise, I've learned. So I'll make no promises to them.

I'll do something most improbable and I'll latch on to uncertainty. I'll buckle up and take a spin in the Fun House, where one minute things look short and squatty and the next they're all stretched out and wobbly, like that screaming Munch dude.

I don't know what's around the corner. Every time I think I do, I'm proven wrong.

Uncertainty can feel loose and shaky. Without the trust that it's being dealt by hands that won't ever let you fall, it will keep you company when the house is quiet and the halls are dark. It'll rob you of your appetite and creep up on you like a cold sore.

I still go there, all too often. I still get so wrapped up in me and my life that I forget that it's not up to me to unearth the answers or to fight to keep my world on its course.

So right now, when I feel just a bit adrift in the not knowing for sure, I remind myself again and again that I am simply a passenger on this flight. All I really have to do is believe that I'll arrive in one piece, wherever it is I'm headed, then skip down the aisle, so ready to be there, so excited to see what happens next.




*For the rest of the Letting Go series, click here.