Last week, I invited you along on my surrendering journey. My question was this: what are you surrendering to right now? I’m surrendering to not knowing what will happen if I give pregnancy and motherhood another shot, post miscarriage. Which led me to ponder this familiar question: Do I really know anything?
There’s a doozy for my inner brainiac! What? Not know stuff?
She and I have had this discussion before, but she’s still a big fan of knowing stuff. Yet, truly, I cannot know what will happen in the next moment, much less the next day, week, month, or year. I can plan. I can intend. I can imagine. I can dream.
But I can’t know.
Aghhhhhhhh! (Inner brainiac screaming. Poor thing.)
I was trained in school to learn, study, analyze, and know. My intellect was honed and my intuition buried. Which is odd, because what I actually need, to navigate my life successfully, is a lot less intellect and lot more intuition. Because intuition actually does KNOW. It knows in a deeper, less verbal, more visceral, somewhat indescribable way. I need to lead my life with intuition, and apply my intellect to intuitive information.
I don’t know anything with my intellect. But I KNOW lots of things with my intuition. Listening to it is a little like walking a tightrope, but being willing to fall into the big, safe net below. I can be willing to let go of the need to know with my mind. I can walk this motherhood tightrope – heck, I might even attempt a little fancy flip or something. My intuition will guide me, and I will know what I need to know, when I need to know it.
Would you like to walk the tightrope with me? Maybe you’re already a mother, but maybe there’s something new you’d like to do – your version of the tightrope. Possibly your intellect would like to know everything and see how it all works out before you take the first/next step. I hear ya, sister! What would it be like to let go of the need to know, together? I have a feeling that some group energy around this might serve all of us who are open to not knowing and ready to trust our intuition more and more. What are you ready to not know?
In March, when I knew in my heart that I was about to miscarry, I felt angry at my intuition. Why tell me something like that in advance? I didn’t want to KNOW.
Except that I did want to know. I’ve spent years opening back up to my intuition, being willing to listen to that deeper voice within, and learning to trust it. I’ve opened that can of worms, and now I KNOW a lot more than I used to. It can be disconcerting, but at the same time, there’s a sense of preparedness that comes with intuitive knowing. It helped me to know I was miscarrying, even if I did have a little fight with it at first. It made it easier to surrender. In general, I trust myself a lot more now that I KNOW things.
I trust that whatever is happening, it is actually serving me, even if it’s painful or uncomfortable. I learned that big lesson from dealing with vulvodynia and interstitial cysititis. Even though I argued against those experiences for a while, in the end I saw why I needed to have them to become the person I truly wanted to be. After I saw that, I was able to trust that new painful experiences were not there to beat me down, but to help me return to myself in some way.
I’m pretty sure I’ll be returning to myself in some form or another for the rest of my life. The difference is, now I am willing to walk that humble path and trust the KNOWING rather than try to steer clear of pain by intellectually choosing my route. (I said willing, mind you. I didn’t say I do it all the time, or perfectly!) I’m willing to not know, and to KNOW. I’m willing to trust the sense of visceral understanding that sometimes cannot be put into words.
To embark on the pregnancy and motherhood path again, (though I don’t think I’ve actually veered off the path, come to think of it) I have to love my intellect, be kind to it, and then remind it that it just can’t know. Then I have to look into my heart, trust my inner guidance, and take the next step on the tightrope. Yes, I am afraid. I allow the fear to surface as I step into the unknown. I feel it. I get guidance from it. And I keep stepping.