Knowing

Do you think that I know what I'm doing?

That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?

As much as a pen knows what it is writing,

or the ball can guess where it is going next.

(Rumi)

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be our outer selves.

Detached, separated, certain and predictable.

Mortal and full of ourselves.

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be in the loop.

Repeating our mistakes, not getting the message.

Reciting facts and inventing stories that we would call our history.

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be right.

Imposing our rightfulness upon others.

Telling what must be done, full of knowledge.

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be resisting.

Attached to what we were told, dependent on our earthly needs.

Fighting, shouting, needy, greedy, living in scarcity, suffering.

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be doing.

Busy with all that must be done, desperate that we might not have time to do it.

Consuming all, including ourselves in the process.

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be worried.

Of all that might have been and all that may or may not be.

Of what others might say, of what if?

If we knew what we were doing; then, we would be in a hurry.

Racing towards an illusion in a frantic effort to go nowhere.

Going somewhere that does not exist, lost in our minds.

We do not know what we are doing, of that we are absolutely certain.

It is not our doing, there is nothing for us to do.

Everything happens from within.

From running in circles to whirling in ascending spirals.

Living our own truth, without judgment.

Letting go, letting be, flowing, releasing, weaving, rooted, connected.

Contemplative of everything there is, as it is, in the here and now.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to do.

Just being.

Yo lo Creo/

I believe so, and so it is