Well, I think I’ve figured it out this time—my motivations, my patterns, my complete tale. But have I? The moment I try to pin down what’s really driving me, it slips away. Like trying to catch my own shadow, I keep grasping at something that moves whenever I move.

Sometimes, I’m so sure about who I am and what I want. Then suddenly, I notice I’m acting completely differently than I thought I would. Was I wrong before, or am I mistaken now?

Take it to the end of the line.

The explanations I give myself are quite convincing. Until they’re not. My certainty about my own mind lasts exactly as long as it takes for the next thought to arise. Then I’m lost again in a new story about why I do what I do.

Maybe I should stop pretending I know. But even that feels like another kind of knowing.

But at night, when all the world’s asleep…

When I look closely at what I think I know about myself, it starts to fall apart. Each piece I examine turns out to be another assumption, another story I’ve been telling myself. Even my doubts about myself might just be more stories.

Is this confusion or clarity? Both seem equally uncertain.

If we carry on this way, this thing might leave the ground!

Perhaps everyone shares this not-knowing, this constant shifting of ground beneath their feet. Maybe we’re all just pretending to understand ourselves, and the fundamental understanding starts when I stop pretending.

It wasn’t even worth mentioning, and yet everyone wanted to discuss it. But I had nothing but fancy ideas. Yet, I could meet everyone there, in that honest uncertainty.

You are always welcome.