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[For the sake of full disclosure, this post was handwritten on a night when I lacked access to cell or internet service. I am transcribing it exactly as it was originally written. Somewhat painfully, I did no editing.]

The amount that I know is tiny compared to the amount that I don’t know. I don’t generally like admitting that I don’t know. It makes me so uncomfortable that I can tend to avoid accepting I don’t know by avoiding it, trying to control it, trying to convince others or myself that I do know.

Right now, I am writing all of this because I’m scared by what I don’t know and am actively trying to defend my fragile positioning.

*Deep exhale.*

The truth is, I know very little. I have precious few answers and I don’t know how certain I can say even those few are.

I got scared tonight by something I heard. I got scared by something that is other than what I practice (and by the part of my mind saying maybe I should be practicing it, and helpfully listing for me all the reasons I’m likeliest to not be practicing it: laziness, self-centeredness, cowardice…etc.)

I know very little. I  think this is okay. I can come back to what I do know which is that my process is right now, where my faith lies right now, and what I need right now. I can come back to my body, mind, and heart and trust what I find here. I don’t actually have to know. Maybe I simply need to choose to believe. If in nothing else, than at least in me.