I find faith in the idea of the unknown. All those things brewing out there that I have no clue are happening and have no control over. Trusting that they will come to land in ways I may not understand but will try to believe in.
And the unknown inside myself. The places inside of me that have never been touched, just waiting to awaken. I imagine a flash of light, like the fairy godmother’s magic wand touching the darkness and sparking it to life. Or the bottom side of a rock buried in the soil, finally unearthed by the spring thaw or the hiker who trips over it knocking it loose. Blinded by the sun and feeling it’s warmth for the first time in…I don’t know how long.
And then there’s the unknown dark stuff, hidden so deep a part of me wants it to stay there, bubbling up when I least expect it. It painfully passes through me, sometimes getting lodged, other times making it to the surface, where I finally let it go. Tapping it out, crying it out, walking it out, talking it out. And I imagine it turning to soap bubbles, bursting in the blue sky and vanishing into the light.
All the unknowns, all the mystery that is just waiting for us to give it some space, a place to exist. Let it come, and when it does, keep the good stuff and let the bad stuff go.