So, the other day, I was reading a few short stories about the concept of Zen… because you know, sometimes life calls for a little ancient wisdom mixed with modern overthinking.
At the end of one of the stories, I stumbled across this question: “Which is heavier; the weight of not knowing or the weight of needing to know?”
At first, I just smiled and said, “Great question.”
Damn that question, though…it felt like it was taunting me with a, “Hey…you there with those big dreams who always wants to know how they’ll turn out… yeah, you. Let’s talk.”
In all honesty though, that question couldn’t have come at a better time.
Right now, I’m standing on the edge of some pretty big things. Launching a whole new platform, stepping into the next version of my work… no big deal. (Yeah, right….who am I kidding?!) So, that question had every right to taunt me.
And when I sat with it, I realized something: My need to know how things are going to turn out is much heavier than sitting in the unknown.
Not just “a little extra weight” heavy. I’m talking about the kind of heavy where you feel like you are dragging a boulder around in your tote bag and pretending it’s no big deal.
From a brain perspective, it makes perfect sense, though. Our brains are basically predictability machines, and when something important is around the corner, the brain goes into overdrive trying to fill in all the blanks. It means well. It just gets a little… overenthusiastic.
But here’s where the real issue lies: My need to know is really just fancy code for need to be in control. And control? Control is sneaky. It pretends it’s keeping me safe when really, it’s just robbing me of the surprise of what could be.
It reminds me of when I was a kid and thought it would be a brilliant idea to sneak a peek at my presents ahead of time. Sure, I got the rush of knowing. But I also ruined the magic. I robbed myself of the real joy …the surprise, the laughter, the “I can’t believe you got me this!” moment.
When I grip too tightly to the need to know, I do the same thing. I script the outcome and, in the process, close the door to surprises and possibilities.
What if I get clear on what I want, how I want to feel, and then I let the unfolding be a surprise? What if I stayed in the “I don’t know” space with open hands, a curious heart, a belief in all is OK, and maybe a little popcorn?
Because here’s the kicker, I know better. I know what happens when I let go of needing to know. Things actually move. Doors open. Energy shifts. Life breathes a little easier. Something better usually happens that I couldn’t have seen coming if I tried.
My brain still begs for a neat little timeline with color-coded labels, but it’s not in charge. I am.
Thanks to that taunting question, I’m now committed to stay connected to how I want to feel. I’m choosing to trust the bigger vision even when the path feels like a scavenger hunt with half the clues missing.
Letting go of the need to know feels like opening the windows after being stuck inside too long. It feels like freedom. It feels like wonder.
So here is where I’m landing:
Heavy, sweaty, and kind of a buzzkill.
Open, light, and more magical.
And honestly, I love magic.
If you’re carrying the weight of needing to know too, here is a tiny experiment you might want to try.
Tiny Experiment: Play with the “I Don’t Know” Space
Pick one thing in your life you’re trying to control or predict the outcome of. (Big or small, your brain doesn’t care, it will try to control both.)
Write down the story your brain keeps telling you about how it must unfold.
Then flip it. Write a new story that sounds more like an invitation than a blueprint.
“I’m excited to see how this unfolds in a way that surprises and even makes me a little giddy.”
Every time you catch yourself reaching for the need to know, pause.
Let yourself stay open to what you can’t yet see. Trusting that what’s aligned with you will make its way to you, and at the perfect time.
Because some of the best moments happen not because we forced them…but because we left enough room for life to surprise us. Here’s to lighter loads, bigger magic, and making “I don’t know” your new cool place to hang out.
