I have procrastinated until the 11th hour on this message to you all. Even as I write, I can feel the sinuses below my eyes pulsing, the left side of my jaw subtly aching, and my right temple alive with some kind of little sharp stabbing thing.

I feel exhausted. For a multitude of reasons known and ever more unknown, I am exhausted in this moment.

I say to 6 year old Ruthie standing beside me, “Can you tell me what I should write?”

“About what?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

Then I pause…

With that acknowledgment, I also know.

I’m in my not knowing space.

It is a space with which I am familiar. It is a gift of a space as it means I’m not limited by my likes or dislikes, my preferences or avoidances, or a plethora of other boxes that we tend to put around our contentment.

It can simultaneously (and not surprisingly) also be a scary space as not knowing is huge. It is vast. It is infinite.

I am grateful that it is a space where I have learned to ride the moment because the moment is ever changing and a mystery constantly in play. Unfolding. Unwinding. Revealing what Is in exchange for what we think should Be.

I don’t have words to share with you because I am a blank slate right now. I am riding through space at whatever crazy speed this earth flies (67,000 mph according to a Google search).

I am in the place where I’m riding some epic waves of feeling – many are towering and mighty in power. And I am getting sucked under some – thrown for a tumble or two before coming up for air. And as a breather at times, I am catching some smaller and sweeter waves – glimpses of simplicity of the Now in children, breeze, birds and sunshine.

And to support myself in the place of not knowing, I need Space and Rest. I need stillness and dear friends. I need sunshine and the mourning dove. I need trust and surrender.

I have faith that each will continue to meet me in the moment that I need it.

Now is the moment to serve me, to care for me, to love me deeply. I shall do so. And if closing your eyes for a moment and sending your compassion my way is an option, I accept it with open arms.

And, closing my eyes in this moment, I send the same to you.

I send my gratitude for any kindness you share with the world today,
I send my compassion for your pain and suffering,
and I send my deep trust in your skillful navigation of your own dear and beautiful life.

Be well,
Rachel