“I don’t know what I’m doing, but I swear by the very stars in the blue sky above that I will do it!”
But of course I know what I am doing. I’ve always known. Even in the throes of great unconsciousness I’ve known. Even as the torrid rains of suffering have washed over me, I’ve known. Even when I’ve had no clue, when I’ve been so completely and utterly lost amid the creations of my mind and ego, I’ve known. I’ve known it all, and in the well-meaning and devout oath I utter to the ether around me, I realize I know this, too.
A subtle wave of bumps, born deep within yet now exposed upon my knowing skin, issues me a simple truth. I know. In the fluttering of my youthful heart and the throbbing of my male virility, I hear truth with every pulse of life within me. In the pit of my stomach, in the place that knows the language of the gods and where the Universe speaks to me, the truth rages like a stormy shoreline whose sands are firm and whose lighting strikes and thunder claps remind me simply that I know.
And the birds keep singing, because they know too. The little tufts of white born against the blue canvas that make their way quickly past my view, know. I know those blue skies lie, pretending not to know that beyond the illusion there is an eternity of possibility; where each ray of light offers thanks to the space that allows it to be. Yes, even that dream surely knows. I dive deep beyond the obstacles my mind creates because there, in that awesome stillness found upon the stormy shore, I know.
“God, I love…”
I pause. Not because I fear the words my mouth is about to utter, but because I want to feel it as each word spills from my beating heart.
Exhalation. Joy. I know.