It's scary af not to know what's next. Fear, shame, and anxiety can have halting power in the body. As a younger student, I would rarely raise my hand to speak in class. If I did, my hand would shake, my heart picked up pace, and sometimes my vision blurred. High-key freeze action 😰 The thought of being called on, somehow getting words out of my mouth, and not having the right answer was mortal peril for me. It was not knowing how I would be received that held me back. My body was trying to keep me safe. Isn't it fun to live in a must-know-it-all, competitive society? (sarcasm)
What if the flip side of not knowing isn't danger? What if not knowing is a possibility that helps get to what's next? In January 2020, I left what I believed was certain stability––a life I'd had for over eight years in Cleveland. Last summer, I exited a promising job after a month when I figured out they weren't paying…And, a few weeks ago, I said no to an herbalism program that didn't fit my needs, even though I really wanted it to. The pressure to lunge into another program, project, or role is tempting. Since running a practice is still new to me, where I'm at today isn't signaling “oh 👋🏾 you've arrived!” which is causing a little bit of sweat, ngl. Gestalt therapy discusses a concept called the “fertile void”. It's a place where nothing seems to happen, yet anything could happen. Potential. Surprise. Creation. If I picture the Fertile Void in my mind's eye, I see an egg-like planet held up by a dark sky and stars. I hear a loving invitation to keep learning. I taste the tickle of speech on my tongue. I feel grace and gratitude for staying curious. What does this idea generate for you? Is it helpful for you to sit with the unknown? What is comfortable or a stretch for you when you consider doing so? Love and solidarity,
AmariYah