Every morning at 5 am my alarm goes off and I get to watch the sunrise as I water our vegetables on the farm. Every morning I think back to that morning in Barcelona where I watched the sunrise over the water. It felt like a breath of fresh air; I was grounded in a place where the ground was constantly changing, week by week. I thought that coming home to work on a farm, one of my all time dreams would have felt like that morning in Barcelona. It turns out that feeling grounded in where I am at and who I am was not in the Creator’s agenda for me. Why is it that I felt grounded sleeping in cities with few trees and not here in Canada, where I am surrounded by nature. Today I am hovering over the land, floating into a sea of nothingness.
What is it like to be entering the unknown, spending time with uncertainty. Your hands are where your feet should be, your eyes are where your ears should be and your heart is not even inside of you, instead it is on the other side of the room beating on the floor. You cannot be certain of your senses, just as you cannot be certain that your idea of God is the right one because the person sitting beside you probably has a slightly different idea of God. Or we cannot be certain of why Monet painted water lilies, why he chose the colours he did. However, we need to think we can have certainty: up is up, down is down and blue is a colour and that colour is sadness. We need this to feel grounded, to have meaning. But really all it takes for us to be certain of something is if two or more people can agree upon it. So what makes it more concrete than our brothers and sisters who think differently? It is the people who spend the most time with uncertainty who end up finding their own truth but even then they are uncertain.