On Knowing

At the start of what we collectively refer to as “the pandemic,” the wave of change that wrapped around the world hit me in the form of a life-shattering separation from my husband. I was torn apart, blasted open, and stripped to my core. I imagine this is what most of humanity was also experiencing, sans the dramatic heartbreak. No one was exempt from the impact. 

The piercing quality of grief sent me into survival mode. Raw, vulnerable and exposed, my senses were peaking. There was one particular sense, however, that surfaced in the space created by loss and offered me a non-negotiable contract in exchange for the empty promise of my marriage. That sense was my intuition, my knowing, a compass that guided me through the most profound ceremonial transformation of my life that we culturally refer to as a divorce. 

My current understanding is that there are many different modes of knowing. There’s logic knowing, which operates on a mental motor and is based in the brain. There’s gut knowing, which is evolutionarily developed by the second brain, also referred to as instinct. There’s emotional knowing, which is a dynamic relationship between frequency and feeling and is resonant of the heart. And there’s intuition, a mysterious internal compass that is calibrated to the present moment and offers clear directive. All “modes of knowing” are created equally. No mode is better or more effective than another. What does influence their effectiveness, however, is our alignment with our knowing. 

These are just my theories on knowing. There are myriad more. Every ancient culture has their own philosophy or way of explaining “the art of knowing.” Additionally, there’s all the conventional systems that we, as modern-day humans, have established for the sake of shared understanding. There’s science. There’s law. There’s religion. There’s morals, etiquette. and manners. What all these systems have in common is a set of principles put forth to help us define right from wrong. They do all the knowing for us. And there’s nothing more disempowering than surrendering our knowing to something outside ourselves.

I didn’t even know I was disempowered. I didn’t know I could know differently. For years I had been going against my intuition, silencing that internal voice in order to please others or adhere to an outside source of authority. I was making choices based on other’s agendas. And by giving my power of knowing away to an outside source, it was easy to cast blame on those outside sources too. This is what some refer to as a victim mentality. But turns out that wasn’t sustainable. Or fulfilling. Or fun.

So, as I witnessed the unsustainable infrastructure of my life crumbling before me, I vowed to myself to do everything in my power to find resolve. Because resisting the change was also unsustainable. And that’s when my inner authority, my intuition, came in with that non-negotiable contract. Because, as they say, knowledge is power. 

The contact was simple: listen. I say listen because I hear my intuition. It’s like a voice, but not a voice. It’s a clear, concise, coherent message that I receive in the space between my cells. 

So, step by step, I listened. I acted in accordance. I trusted the process. I reconstructed my life into a reality that continues to defy logic and relegate reason with the miraculous nature of being in alignment with my truth. When I choose not to listen, however, then I usually get bitch-slapped in some manner by the universe, depending on the magnitude of the message I’ve ignored— hence the contract’s non-negotiable nature. 

As simple as that contract is, it’s also complex, like nature. For example, listening to my intuition requires being honest and transparent and authentic. It requires taking ownership for my own shit. It requires trust because not only is it invisible and sometimes illogical, it sometimes defies everything I’ve been conditioned to believe. So, sometimes it requires me to question authority, to go against the grain, to be different. Alas, with great power comes great responsibility. 

To be honest, this terrifies me. Honoring my knowing means speaking my truth. And speaking my truth is one of the most vulnerable things I can conjure up. Because that precious voice that’s ameliorated my life might be rejected, or go unheard, or maybe even trigger someone I love. But I’m learning that silencing it actually causes more harm. Whereas speaking to it empowers everybody. Because when I speak my truth, it’s an invitation for you to speak yours too.

So, if I’m going to be really honest, I’m grateful for my divorce. I’m grateful for the pandemic. I’m grateful for the waves of change that ripple across the earth and cause compromised relationships and contracts and systems to quake. For, if they crumble, then in the wake of their resolve there is space. And although space can be scary, leaving us feeling vulnerable and exposed, it's also a clean slate from which we can take fresh steps forward and create a new reality.