So much of our lives seems bent on trying to understand. To know ourselves, our partners, our kids, our work, our lives…I was working with a client last week and we were exploring this notion of what can be truly known. And we both talked about how much times in our lives we have spent trying to understand, to understand all sorts of facets of our lives.
And I’d recently finished reading ‘Madness, Rack, and Honey’, by Mary Ruefle. She writes beautifully about the art of making poetry and connecting this back to how we experience life I suppose. One thing she wrote totally grabbed me, and it feels so simple I risk losing this in the sharing it here. She said something along the lines of ‘…in the end, I’d rather wonder than know…’. The more I sat with this notion the more true it felt for my life.
I shared this with my client and we both found ourselves savoring this thought. We found ourselves laughing with ourselves over how much time we’d missed more wonder in life for trying to understand it. While I know I’d want my surgeon to know how to properly diagnose and operate, even here I imagine his or her learning and evolving doesn’t stop. Knowing feels like an end and an illusion of sorts. Wonder feels like an opening up, a child like curiosity and sense of play even with the ebbs and flows of life. Something about wonder feels more innate and more magical. While understanding feels somehow more connected to my ego and personal need to feel competent.
This awareness has invited the slightest of shifts in me spending less time trying to figure life out and more time going with the flow and wondering what all will unfold when I am less questioning and more trusting that life has our backs.