you don't know yet

an invitation for this moment

You don’t know yet, dear wonderer/reluctant warrior/sweet worrier, what happens next. You don’t know yet because the openness of not knowing is the only reality that exists. Every certainty, every plan, is thin ice cracking, a precarious tower of Jenga blocks swaying, a fiery comet hurling itself toward a planet where everyone is making to-do lists of things like calling the rental insurance company to be sure they still cover fire, driving repackaged overpriced jeans to the post office to be returned, writing back to the editor of an online publication about how we might collaborate.

You don’t know yet how you will make enough money for all the popcorn kernels you’ll eat and new Birkenstocks you’ll need over the next decade. You don’t know yet the color of the kitchen counter that will be the backdrop to your creamy English breakfast tea on some morning next July. You don’t know yet the view from that kitchen window. You don’t know yet whose voices will be in that house and whose will not. You don’t know yet the results of the mammogram you’ll have next month and whether you’ll need to brace your muscles and clench your jaw to bear another biopsy needle or worse.

You don’t know yet what you’ll eat for dinner tonight or what you’ll listen to in the car on the way to the comedy show. You don’t know yet — so you started taking Lexapro to help soothe the inner little one of you who learned she should always be scanning for danger, for ‘what if’s, for ways she might be misunderstood or abandoned, for the slightest twitch of insincerity in another’s smile. The little one learned to plan and make lists to protect against all the not-knowing of this human life. She is being invited to relax into the mystery, to trust fall, to hold it lightly, as if it were a dream. (Her soul is here to do that, but the egoic layers on top are so very vigilant!)

You don’t know yet, tender heart, because you are so very human. Stop snooping for hints and clocking clues, and simply welcome the surprise party of this life.

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I wrote the above in a stream-of-consciousness, automatic writing flow in the span of ten to fifteen minutes in May of 2024. It is completely unedited. I certainly never intended to share this quick, raw, somewhat nonsensical draft with anyone, but there it is. Yesterday, I found this little ditty in some deeply embedded folder on my laptop. I recalled that it was part of a writing exercise a dear friend guided a group of us through on a Zoom call.

I’m sharing it here for a reason, and it’s not because it’s like so profound and well-written! 🤪 I’m sharing it because I’d love to teach you about the practice that prompted it (and many others like it) and to guide you through writing your own. I’ll warn you: It’s a pretty addictive creative practice.

This practice makes me think of one of my favorite tarot cards — The Fool. The Fool is the beginning of the major arcana, and stands for the spontaneity of a free spirit. In the image, the fool is innocently trusting, traveling lightly, and is about to jump off into the wild unknown.

This practice might be just the creative medicine the soul doctor ordered for these times of gripping fear and destructive forces and AI automations and productivity demands. Join me?

🆓 This event is included in a paid annual subscription to this Substack. If you’re already a paying subscriber, THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH, and this is free to you.

👉 If you’re not YET a paying subscriber, for just $17 more than the cost of this singular workshop, you can attend this event, PLUS:

• All other live prism events (which happen at least quarterly, and include things like writing and art workshops, talks on midlife, guest speakers, etc.)

• Inspiring notes to your inbox every other Monday

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• Full archives of juicy posts, dating back to September 2023

• The sheer joy and satisfaction of supporting independent writing and creative content!

• watching: We just started watching Everything’s Gonna Be Okay — pretty cute so far.

• listening to: Amanda Doyle’s two-part series on 1) All the facts on the Epstein files (not speculation, not conspiracy) and 2) Her interview with the attorney who represented 200 of the Epstein survivors almost two decades. Highly recommend.

• drinking: This rose cardamom chai with vanilla oat creamer ☕️

• launching: The Midlife Emergence group begins to meet tomorrow evening! (I get giddy about starting these!) If you want to be a part of the next cohort, you can join the waitlist here.

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