How do you deal with not knowing?
I don’t know if I mean the unknown, but more the not knowing
despite having the pieces of something in front of you but without a clear
understanding of how (or even if) the pieces fit together.
It may just be a personal picadillo, for ambiguity, in situations
where the overall control is out of my hands, makes me feel anxious.
Not my favorite mode of being. Maybe it comes with wanting
everything to fit into a nice neat box. Or that all the variables are accounted
for and thought through. Some of my favorite ways to work are puzzling through
a problem, solving for the nuance. But not knowing something (or someone) can
stomp through like a bull in a China shop…annoying.
I’m not even sure how to depict something like that,
visually. Ambiguous, unformed. Even a cloud has form, it’s a cloud, a visually
plastic thing that is at once a bunny, a car, and or a loved one’s face. And
then, it’s nothing as it evaporates in the sun.
Maybe the perfect visual representation of ambiguity is a murmuration of starlings. Random, chaotic, twisting, wheeling. It’s ambiguous in its shape, where it’s going or in what direction.
That kind of ambiguity feels beautiful. Random. It feels like a murmuration.
I think I love that idea of ambiguity.
I was on my way into the job a few days back when I was gifted a messenger from the spirit world. The coyote came on a day after some heavy news in the office that provoked a lot of soul searching.
The coyote is a common animal in the hills here, so it wasn’t a surprise to see. I’ve caught a few on my way into work in the early morning hours just past the dawn twilight. But this one was different.
Symbolic tradition says the coyote is a trickster. A dog bringing bad news or scavenging away your good fortune. But another aspect of its symbolism says the coyote is a messenger. A guide or a harbinger of a spiritual awakening or revelation. I suppose it’s all in the context of how it shows itself.
My interaction with this coyote was, for me, unique.
In a usually busy road, full of cars and traffic, was unusually empty. Quiet, almost. It crossed from the right into the middle median, walking in front of me. It turned to land a glance back at my car, and proceeded to trot languidly forward for a distance before crossing and the rest of the way and melting into the brush.
At that moment, the quiet and calm of the universe descended. Time stood still for a few moments, and the spiritual guide led the way forward for a short spell. It wasn’t the trickster, it didn’t come to steal or pilfer from me. It was there to lead the way. It was there to tell me that some spiritual transformation is coming—whether I’m ready for it or not.
I’m ready for it.
Thanks, coyote for showing me what’s ahead.