#395 – What do you gain when you forget what you know?

How much does your knowledge weigh you down, when what you have in front of you is a problem you've never seen before?

My bet? A lot. Exactly like your past does: you are this, you aren't that. You like blueberries, you don't like onion soup. You're a runner, you're not a climber.

What if you forget everything that anchors you to your past and just be––here, now?

Lately, I've been getting a lot of memories of my son. The way he crunched his face to impersonate the slug he saw for the first time in that cabin up in the mountains in Cantabria. How self-assuredly he spoke to the TV interviewer about the corrupt politician in Madrid. His joy the first time he wore his baseball uniform in New Jersey.

You might have guessed what these memories do to me––like the Proustian madeleine, they send me down the lane in search of the lost time.

They also close my heart and mind to the possibility of something new. If all I think is, "he was so happy then" and "that time's never going back," all I see is doom and gloom.

But if instead I just am in the present, where nothing has materialized yet, anything and everything can potentially become a reality.

When I stay on the edge between what I am, what I know and what I still am not, what I still don't know, everything is a possibility. Out of that everything, anything can become my reality.

Willing to be in this liminal space of not knowing with a relaxed mind and heart is how I stay open to life.

What are you willing to forget to make room for what you don't know is possible?

Love,

Carolina