Not Knowing as an Ally
There was a time when “not knowing” would send me into a panic. I’d spin like a top, looking for certainty, calling people, reaching for reassurance. But lately, I’ve been learning to stand still in the swirl—to let not knowing walk beside me.
I felt overwhelmed yesterday by the riots in Los Angeles. At the same time, I was driving my daughter and son-in-law to San Francisco for her immigration appointment.
Four years ago, during the COVID-19 pandemic, they were married over Zoom in my home. I’ve watched them build a beautiful life together—find work, adopt a dog, create a home. As we drove, I could feel my fear rising. I didn’t know what was going to happen in her interview.
Not knowing is wild, magical, and expansive—until it isn’t. And yesterday, it wasn’t. When someone you love is facing the possibility of deportation, not knowing is not romantic. It’s raw.
But I didn’t act out of that fear. I was present with it. Like a parent with a small child, I stood with my fear and held its hand.
We drove in. We talked and laughed. We even had time to share a small quiche and iced tea. I walked them to the door, hugged them goodbye, and went to my car. As I waited, I got some work done. Then I wandered through San Francisco, admiring the buildings.
Years ago, I would’ve been spiraling. My mind would’ve run through every scenario. I would’ve made calls, trying to fix something unfixable. But over time, I’ve learned this: life, by its nature, is uncertain. And I have everything I need inside me to meet whatever comes.
“Fear is always the symptom of a mind that has stopped trusting in the infinite source of wisdom inside.”
That line has stayed with me. It reminds me that not knowing is not a threat. It’s a gateway. It’s in the pause, the space of uncertainty, where wisdom has room to rise.
Not knowing is my ally now. It helps me listen. It softens my grip. It reminds me I am not alone—and never have been.
And I’m happy to share: my daughter is becoming a U.S. citizen. That day of uncertainty gave way to a new chapter of belonging and celebration.
If you’re in a season of not knowing about your work, your worth, your future, know this: wisdom is in you, too. And it will rise.
