I’m wrestling with the breadth of the unknown these days. Take this Yellowstone landscape, for example, taken during a recent visit to the park. What’s in the shadow of those distant trees? Above the clouds, hidden from view? Beneath the ground, lying in wait? When a picture gets so large that your eyes can’t ingest everything that is right in front of you, where do you look?
These days, this reflexive questioning is a lot of what occupies me. Opening a business, balancing a relationship, and finding time for artistic endeavors—the magic balancing act of my day to day—plus the unpredictable world we live in have all led me to this point.
Rewind a couple years ago and I’d tell you I was more confident in knowing. Now, not so much. I’m worried that the predictive muscles I used to flex have atrophied. I’m having those thoughts that filled my mid-twenties again—the ones that leave you feeling lapped by your peers when you aren’t even running on the same track.
I suppose there is solace in not knowing. Instead I can attempt to be present, reveling in the unknown and celebrating its liberating qualities. Just sit back and enjoy the damn view instead of fretting about its finer qualities. We’ll see where that takes me—assuming I don’t fall down any bottomless rabbit holes along the way.
