The Death Of Certainty

At 52, I am not where I thought I would be. Not with my career, not with my marriage, not with my relationship with my children. Nor with most of my accomplishments. None of these things are where I thought they would be. And yet, if one were to examine all of these from an outsiders point of view, they would find amazing abundance. Of love. Of success. Of meaning.

I know this. And yet, the feeling of inadequacy still remains. The Song Remains the Same, as Zeppelin rails. I wonder if they looked at their music the same way.

I think too much, being cursed with an overactive mind. I have learned this, however, thatThe-Thinking-Man if I am certain of a particular outcome, I am more likely to be wrong than right. Especially when it involves people. With the inanimate on the other hand? I kill it. Perhaps it is the logic orientation in my brain that I can step through a process and predict an outcome well in advance of it happening. As long as it doesn’t involve people. There was a time when the satisfaction of process easily overshadowed the disappointment in the relationship.

No longer.

It is the relationships that stay with me. That I ponder the most when I wake at 3:27 in the morning. Like this morning, leaving me feeling ambivalent and all the more uncertain.

Certainty is the yoke one must let go of.

Without certainty, there is no longer expectation. And without expectation, there just is. Where my wife is. Where my kids are. Where those I love and cherish wait for me.

Is, is an amazing place to be.

So death I say, death to certainty. That we have peace in what remains.

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