The Practice of Not Knowing

This Week's Quotation:

If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.”

—Ajahn Chah

The Practice of Not Knowing

 

Rev. Berry Behr, Interfaith Minister

I am recognizing a state of being that seems to be everywhere I look: this is a world with a dysregulated nervous system.

We are overstimulated, under-rested, and living with a constant hum of urgency—even when nothing immediate is happening. Many of us oscillate between anxiety and numbness, between the pressure to act and the impulse to disappear for a while. I see it in others. I feel it in myself. And still, life asks me to hold space for others—to remain present while they process their overwhelm, to keep breathing when the collective air feels thin.

I know it will be okay. I truly do. And yet, sometimes I waver, unsure whether I am reading the signs clearly. I find myself waiting for clarity, for the right next step to appear—while the waiting itself feels unbearable. My soul cries out for answers.

So I return to a practice I have learned slowly, and not without resistance: the practice of not knowing. Que sera, sera (What will be, will be). My mother sang that song to baby me, probably not dreaming that I would find in it a sacred practice.

During the recent Spirit of Reconciliation tour in South Africa, I learned this: reconciliation is not the absence of conflict, but the willingness to stay present long enough for transformation to occur, individually and collectively.

In America, there are 24 Buddhist monks walking for peace and embodying that willingness to stay present and hold space for transformation. They are demanding nothing, simply modeling what is in their hearts. And the world is responding with a global pause between conflict stories. The monks are not trying to convert anyone to Buddhism but inviting people of all beliefs into an experience of shared peace. The steady, calm presence of the monks reminds us that there is another way of being in this chaotic, dysfunctional world. Maybe the most faithful thing we can do now is not to rush toward action, but to tend gently to what is alive in us.

For now, this is my offering: a willingness to stay, a breath at a time. And a quiet faith that not knowing, held with care, is not emptiness but sacred, embodied, ceaseless prayer for the revelation of a Divine Design we can’t imagine yet, but which we sense is very, very near.

About Open Windows

We, the authors of this blog, dedicate it to the transparent exploration of the world's sacred scripture and enlightened spiritual thought. We believe that the original inspiration of all faiths comes from a common source, named and revered in a myriad of ways. With that understanding, the innumerable symbols, beliefs, and practices of faith cease to divide. They become open windows to a common reality that inspires and unifies us. We find deeper insight and nourishment in our own faith and from the expression of faith from others.

We hope these weekly quotations and meditations speak to your heart and soul.