Coming home from Chicago last weekend, Scott and I talked for almost eight hours straight. We talked about life and change and patterns and church and God and more life. We talked so intensely that instead of getting off the turnpike at Toledo we finally noticed the time when we saw a sign for Cedar Point. . .way more than an hour too far down the road. . .We laughed and accused each other of not paying attention, but the truth is we were paying attention to what was important in the moment.
So much of what he said helped me. And it makes me wonder if anything I said helped him.
Mostly because I'm coming to realize that the more I learn, the less I know.
As I get older all the black and white experiences of my life are now faded to soft shades of grey. All the "capital T" truths have lost their hard edges and mellowed into understated props on the stage of life. I feel privileged to understand that there is so much in life that I don't know, can't know, will never know. Mostly because I can't see life with another's eyes and I can't feel experiences with anyone else's heart.
I am totally okay with the not knowing.
Perhaps the process of maturity allows us to let go of certainty. And then I begin to wonder what happens when we get really, really old. At the end of life do we come to understand that we really know nothing at all? And is that a relief?
I feel like it would be. And I feel like that is where I want to go.