I don't know the things I should know but maybe I do

I don’t know the things I should know, but maybe I do. Maybe we all know what we need to know to move forward and the only thing keeping us from a plan is the courage to answer the questions truthfully while listening to our inmost voice. So I say:

“I don’t know what to do next.”

And then I sit with it. I genuinely feel like there’s a big question mark hanging over my head. I walk with it, I sit it with, I mill it around while walking to the store. I say again, “I don’t know what to do next.”

I say it right up until the moment when another thought comes to me, “I think you do know what to do next.”

Here’s the thing. “I don’t know” can feel really safe. It asks nothing of us. It allows life to happen and all we have to do it react and throw our hands up, feel powerless and point to the things making life hard.

The harder thing, but also the good thing would be to take a walk with the notion that, yes, indeed, I do know what to do. I just need the guts to admit it. To admit that I know what to do means I admit to knowing how to move forward. To admit I can see how to move forward means I’ve chosen things that are precious and things that I will release, it means I make decisions as far as what I want instead of taking the temperature of everything around me to test if things are going well or not.

Be the thermostat, not the thermometer.

Set it to where you want it. Don’t test the weather and decide how you feel.

So. I do know what’s next. Turns out, I actually do know.

I get the Kickstarter ready, I reach out to people and ask about playing shows in their area, I order the Hope Dunbar Band t-shirts, I let my people know their are t-shirts for sale, I schedule band practice, I call that guy back, I schedule recording dates once I have a better idea about the money.

I don’t sweat falling off the cliff. I take a minute, I slowly get back up, I dust off and I start climbing back up to the ledge. When I get there, I don’t beat myself up for having fallen off, instead, I celebrate getting back up.

I know what to do next, you guys. High five.