I face the ‘unknown’ daily. Diagnosed (19 years ago) with Meniere’s Disease I do not know from day-to-day how bad the roaring in my head will be. And although it is an intimate companion, always there, (even in my dreams), I do not know from moment-to-moment how bad it really is. I do not know how well (or how poorly) I am compensating for the tinnitus and associated symptoms because (by definition) the cause of Meniere’s is unknown and the severity of (many of) the fluctuating symptoms is unmeasurable. I don’t know if I am a crybaby or a superhero. I don’t know where I stand compared to other Meniere’s sufferers; or to others with any debilitating disease and/or disability; or to others who actively acknowledge and thoughtfully consider the adversity inherent in our daily existence. I simply don’t know.
I began this week interpreting my symptoms as more oppressive than usual; but I really don’t know.
Were my symptoms truly worse? Or was I merely more attentive? I don’t know.
Do other hardships distract me from my symptoms? Or bring them into sharper focus? I don’t know.
And what about good fortune? Is (lower-case) happiness a distraction? A salve? Or an irritant? I don’t know.
I’m not being difficult. I have made an effort to analyze how varying situational circumstances may conspire to soothe or exacerbate, but either there are too many impactful variables interacting collectively, and/or the symptoms are truly random. Regardless, I still don’t know.
Today (Wednesday) I have made a connection from this individual dot of empirical existence and it’s personal unknowns, to other dots representing other (seemingly more significant) unknowns – dots representing love, and spirituality, and philosophy, and Truth, and Wisdom, and Dark, and Light, and death. And although I am able to reach out and pull these other dots close, I do not know if I am seeing them as they really are. I don’t know if I am a fool or a wise man. I don’t know where I stand compared to others who claim a spirituality; or to others who profess their love; or to others who actively acknowledge and thoughtfully consider the Light inherent in our daily existence.
I would like to argue that personal unknowns are equally as significant as these ominous, looming unknowns based on the rationale that though some things may seem so, nothing is larger-than-life.
If there is an afterlife, it is the substance of this Life that is important.
If there is no afterlife, it is the substance of this Life that is important.
If I lived a previous Life on this (or any) plane of existence (or not), it is the substance of this Life that is important.
In my mind, the substance of this Life includes passion, reason, compassion, responsibility, hard work, exoteric goodness, learning and growth, complexity, depth, and (as it comes) an inner peace.
In my mind, the substance of this Life does not include divisive dogma, ritualistic comfort, or bureaucratic indoctrination.
When one faces the unknown daily, one is more aware of the substance of this Life, and one comes closer to an active understanding of Love, and Spirituality, and Philosophy, and Truth, and Wisdom, and Dark, and Light, and Death.
When one faces the events in their day with certainty, believing they have control, one distances their self from the substance of this Life.
My personal unknowns give me an opportunity to look into the eyes of Life and recognize the advantage of unadulterated equal footing.
My personal unknowns give me an opportunity to look into the teeth of Life and sense the reality that nothing is larger-than-Life.
My personal unknowns (on good days) meld with other looming unknowns creating a symbiotic relationship that provides a depth of interdependent nourishment in an ocean of (unknown) possibility.
My personal unknowns (on not-so-good days) create a muddy pool of slop and filth in which I can wallow.
My personal unknowns (on bad days) hide in fear allowing me to pretend that my wading pool holds the restorative energy of a natural hot spring; or a mineral bath; or the fountain of youth.
Every now and then, a wading pool is nice; and in some circumstance, perhaps necessary. But my wading pool will never lead me to the depths of interdependent nourishment created by a synergistic fusion of unknowns. This week, my muddy pool of slop and filth did exactly that.
And for that, I am actively grateful.