Not Knowing

We study the mind to know our self. And, as we know our self, we can begin to let go of our smaller minds, our self-cherishing and self-clinging egos which distract us from our lived life.

But how? How shall we free the mind? There are so very many ways and they all lead to to the top of the mountain (maybe). But this journey of a thousand steps must begin with three simple words: “I don’t know.” Holding the space within ourselves for not knowing, we become intimate with the moment without preconception, intellectualization, or judgment.

“I don’t know mind” is not a return to ignorance. This mind still encounters interpretative thoughts. It ignores nothing. It doesn't suspend itself in confusion or crippling doubt. However, not knowing means that the mind chooses to cultivate a love for investigating things just as they are. In this way, we may find greater clarity and crisp relationship with our experience.

The masters tease us to encounter this consciousness of “I don’t know” because they seek an end to comparative thinking. "The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences," they say.

In this way, together, we poignantly experience intimacy.

To illustrate the importance of questioning our assumptions and dwelling in the unknown, meditation teachers are fond of telling the following story:

Once upon a time, a businesswoman entered the Los Angeles airport on her way home to New York. She was exhausted. She had successfully completed a series of meetings and negotiations and was looking forward to relaxing in the airport lounge. She bought a package of cookies and coffee and, along with her luggage, somehow negotiated it all over to an unoccupied table. Sitting down with great relief, she opened her paper and began reading. Soon she became aware of someone rustling on the other side of her table. From behind her paper, she was flabbergasted to see a neatly dressed young man helping himself to her cookies! She was furious but was simply too tired to make a scene. Instead of dealing directly with the situation, she reached her hand under her paper and took a cookie herself. The man paused, but he said nothing.

A minute or two later she heard more more rustling. She glimpsed below her paper and saw that he was helping himself to another cookie. She grew angrier, but simply reached out and took another cookie.

And so it went. He would take a cookie and then she would follow suit. By the time they were down to the last cookie in the package, she was fuming but could not bring herself to say anything. The man looked at her and then looked at the last cookie. A moment passed. Then she saw the young man’s hands break the cookie in two. He handed half across to her, smiled, and ate the other half and then left the table.

Naturally, she was quite annoyed that she didn’t get to eat her whole package of cookies. Sometime later, the public address system announced that it was time to board her flight. She was still simmering over the incident. But when she opened her handbag to get her ticket, she found her full package of cookies intact and unopened. She had been eating the young man’s cookies!

Perhaps it is wise to doubt our thoughts. Things are not always so... we just don’t know.

We just don't know because all things rise and pass away. And so, if I become lost in thought, it is possible to miss the flow of impermanent reality. I do not know reality through preferential ideas of good and bad. I know reality through the direct experience of knowing by not knowing. So I need to greatly doubt the permanence of my assumptions. In this way, I may move away from the seductive naivety of certainty and towards a more expansive and creative innocence of mind.

Sojun Mel Weitsman once asked Suzuki Roshi, “What does it mean to be ordained as a Zen priest?”

Suzuki Roshi answered: "I don't know."