Living with ambiguity

I passed through the front door of my agency tonight after staying a bit late to finish up some details.  I pulled my rolling briefcase, loaded with computer and files, as well as things I'd cleaned out of the office refrigerator.  Will I or won't I?  That was the question.  I work for the federal government and as our fearless congressional leaders play with our lives, those of us whose jobs may dissolve at the stroke of midnight mostly just want to serve our mission.  Will I be able to do my job or won't I?  Will I have a job tomorrow or won't I?  Will I get paid or won't I?

By the time I reached the Metro station a block away, I was in another place.  I am living with ambiguity today and, if truth be known, always.  Most of the time our minds convince us that we know what we are doing and what is going on around us.  Truth be known: we can't possibly know.  Ever. 

Ambiguity is mystery. God is mystery. The more uncertain we are, the closer we are to God.  As my walking meditation continued, I asked myself what I thought was a rhetorical question: if I am being my most whole, how do I navigate ambiguity?  But instead of lingering without answer, the answer was there in an instant.  "Be present." 

Oh, that again.  There is a pattern here.

I knew in an instant that the answer was right. Just float in the now and then check in with the heart. The answer is always right.  We don't need to know what is going on around us; we just need to know that answer inside of us will tell us what we need to know next.

My day has been long, and I am tired.  As I prepare to go to bed, I don't know whether I will go to work tomorrow or if I will go to work for a week or even several weeks.  I don't know whether I will have money to buy groceries or not.  I do know one thing: I don't need to know.  I just need to be present...and listen.