I closed a big part of my business (salute, Okay Shoe) and have never felt more clear and chill with not knowing in my whole dang life.
The same hiking trails I spent all winter walking look different this time of year. Knowing what bits of the floor stayed soft in the snow and where to tread lightly on the ice, now seem unfamiliar to me in their muddy-just-showing-signs-of-life states. There are moments of panic when I am walking and wonder if I have taken a wrong turn or if this trail head lets out at the place I am thinking, or will I have to walk along the highway back to my car. And in these moments of wondering where I am and feeling disconnected from the forest I thought I understood the grooves of, I realize I do not know the trees at all.
I cannot know the trees. They aren not mine to know, they are not my first language and they are not my lineage. And although my love of trees informs much of my life + work (I named my membership after the trees), I do not know them at all. I can listen, be I will never know.
This feels like both a disappointing and liberating fact. I cannot know a tree or the forest it is connected to – but I can learn from them. I can feel small in its presence knowing that this universe of forrest is not mine to understand but is there for me to offer my time and protection and presence and listening and gratitude for whatever knowledge it offers up in the forms of repetition, or learning what is growing in between the mud and fallen logs.
Not knowing trees means I don’t know many other things. There are whole oceans worth of knowledge and feeling I cannot know and will never know. This is the beauty of empathy and listening.
And what a pleasure it is to not know. To not have all the answers. To stay open to the experiment of life and living and trees and oceans. To stay open means to not judge myself for fucking up or changing my mind or just to try and see what happens. To feel small in the presence of life and oceans of things we will never know, I find meaning and comfort that nothing I create is really mine and that when I am gone trees roots will still grow as if I was never there.
In a season of unknowing and burning bits of life down (closing Okay Shoe and the closing of GoodBodyFeel’s physical studio) I can be met with the ocean of the forrest, talk one step in and see what happens. Knowing I do not know.
I think of Joni Mitchell
I really don't know clouds at all
things I do not know
We lost a community member and housing rights activist, Ezra Amos last week. Their family is looking for answers surrounding their death and Toronto Police lack of accountability and answers. Join me in donating to their Go Fund Me here
I could never pick one Joni song ever, but this one always hits
Coaching books are open (including a coveted new week night evening spot), book a meet and greet with me to chat about it!
This You’re Wrong about episode on email (the layers of irony here are 😵💫)
IN PERSON WORKSHOP ALERT! I am teachin a class at The Move Room March 14th 🎪 Clownin Around 🎪 A movement workshop for exploration and play 🤸♀️. This is mat free class that focuses on the play and exploration that can be found beyond our mats. Lets get rollin
many blessing for knowing literally nothing ever
xx
Phoebe