July 08-C, 2022

Carteret Ferry 10/25/2008 Oil Paint Rendered — Pamlico Sound, Cape Hatteras National Seashore, North Carolina
It's tricky.
We have to know what we are doing,
and we have no idea of what we are doing,
so we have to know that we do not know
what we are doing,
and focus on knowing what we know.

We have to know what we know
in each situation as it arises.
Discounting, dismissing, disregarding,
ignoring nothing
without knowing that we are doing it,
and doing it consciously,
like with the noise and complexity
that are interfering with our ability
to know what we know
without adding anything substantive/helpful
to the situation as a whole.

Knowing what we know,
and what we do not know,
is essential knowing.
And we have to know at least that much
all of the time.

Which means spending a lot of time
with the right kind of emptiness,
stillness and silence.

The Quakers seem to understand this,
even though they don't articulate it at all.
They are just quiet,
trusting that to be enough.
Quiet in the right kind of way is enough.
Just being quiet, not so much.

Being quiet in the right kind of way
opens us to the wonder of silence,
stillness and emptiness.
To the wonder of the moment.
to the wonder of being alive.

And opens us to the experience
of life being lived here/now.
Deepening, expanding, enlarging
the experience of the moment
to include all there is in the moment,
which is everything,
all at once,

And what needs to be done about it,
in response to it,
based on what we know of it
and what is called for
in response to it.

This is the kind of knowing that knows.
Be there.
Do that.
In each situation as it arises,
your entire life long.


Published by jimwdollar

I'm retired, and still finding my way--but now, I don't have to pretend that I know what I'm doing. I retired after 40.5 years as a minister in the Presbyterian Church USA, serving churches in Louisiana, Mississippi and North Carolina. I graduated from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, in Austin, Texas, and Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, Louisiana. My wife, Judy, and I have three daughters and five granddaughters within about twenty minutes from where we live--and are enjoying our retirement as much as we have ever enjoyed anything.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: