The deep beauty of not knowing shit.

“The only thing I know is that I know nothing, and i am no quite sure that i know that.”

― Socrates

Have you ever stopped to contemplate what an idea is? As in the mental image and story you summon up and apply to pretty much any and all objects and situations in your life. Sit with that for a minute. Sit with the inert realisation that what you call reality is literally the definition of fiction.
If you’re with me still the first thing that pops into mind at this point is probably something along the lines of ‘Well then what is reality?’ ‘What is all this?’ In order to answer that I want to invite you to contemplate a time before all of this labelling, all of this knowing business. The time im talking about is your childhood, spesificly when you were just a baby. When you were a baby life was dead simple, life was lived with such ease, such grace. But why? Because of the deep beauty of not knowing shit! Life was literally just as it is, no thoughts of ‘I want this’ or ‘I don’t want that’ sure you would cry and scream when you were hungry or cold or tired but that crying and screaming would arise not from a place of selfish desire but from a place of purity, a place of honesty. When you look into the eyes of a baby you see something that a place within the very pit of you yearns to hold.
What you see is a pure wonder. A pure not knowing. A pure nothingness. When you break it all down, when you wipe clean the smug of delusion from the windows that are your true eyes you realise that what you know is nothing… And from that nothing arises everything.

Become a child my friend. Know that you know nothing.

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