Infinitely (Un)knowable

That life is not simply a dichotomy of what is good and what is bad,

black and white,

but a glorious intertwining of every experience,

every euphoric pleasure,

every stinging and deep pain,

every love,

every loss,

every emotional high,

every depth of sorrow and woe,

every beauty,

every horror,

every grey area,

every distinct shade of light within the prism of the faceted stone, neatly meeting each other,

every blending point of the shades from a refracted curve, making them distinctly inseparable,

is itself the constant hopeful truth which promises we are never truly finished with this life.

Nor is this life ever truly finished with us.

The push and pull,

ebb and flow,

not defined by its furthest reach

or its most compact retreat,

but by every bit of movement and rest between.

Oh blessed tension,

oh holy fluidity.

Awareness of the shifting sands of experience and reality below our feet is itself received as an expression of this truth.

Driving some to denial and messages of rigidity and certainty of a divine design.

Driving others to abandon ideas of connection and order all together.

While an abundant diversity of hearts and minds find rest and unease alike within the area between the extremes, which is anything but grey.

One thing remains certain.

Certainty is a lie;

A story we tell ourselves to soften our perceptions of the infinitely (un)knowable nature of life.

Infinitely unknowable because we simply lack the capacity to experience and hold all truth.

Infinitely knowable because we will never be finished learning more.

Oh the beauty of this uncertain life;

this holy fluidity,

this beloved tension.

Every bit of movement and rest within the most compact retreat of the ebb

and the furthest reaching flow;

the push and pull.

A life that is never truly finished with us.

A life which promises we will never truly be finished with it,

as we bask in the glow of its refracting light,

its shades blending when life’s bends and curves leave us feeling anything but certain and lining up symmetrically when circumstances seem to align neatly with our limited understanding.

The grey areas,

the horrors,

my goodness, the beauty.

The depths of sorrow,

the heights of joy,

the losses,

the love,

stinging pains,

euphoric pleasure.

All of it;

every experience intertwined in such a glorious manner that the observant participant may just find

this life has never been a dichotomy of black and white, good and bad.

Oh blessed tension.

Oh holy fluidity.

Beautiful uncertainty.

Divine infinite (un)knowability.