Too Much Certainty Feels Like Pollution
I’m smiling right now because the first thing that I typed was “certainty feels like pollution,” and when I looked up and read it, I saw “certainty feels like solution.” The irony here, because this blog is about certainty feeling overwhelming. Part of me thought, did it autocorrect because the computer could literally not compute that certainty can be like pollution? I know that’s probably not the case, but I have fun thinking of that.
At this time in my life, I am finding myself drawn to nature based practices, some considered within the realms of psychotherapy and some not. It’s an interesting space to be in, and it sort of feels like liminality, this sort of venture into a realm of myself that feels more and more disconnected from the world of spoken psychotherapy, at least how I have been taught. Being a quiet observer helped as I navigated graduate school, internships, work, etc., and as I heard all the theories, conceptualizations,, certainties, and uncertainties, and through this held onto myself, my heart, knowing what shook my bones, my body trembling with fear or vigor, my “deer in the headlights” overwhelm, my joy of connecting with others, my self doubt. I held onto my body, moving slowly with it and finding release in so many ways, and perhaps also building up tolerance for some of the discomfort that I could not name. And where this body has led me toward is the beauty of simplicity, being in relationship with the unspoken parts of myself, and the idea and possible dream of being in that relationship with others in a therapeutic sort of way.
In a quietness, in a nonverbal space that feels peaceful and at times feels anxiety provoking, juxtaposed with interactions with others claiming, reading messages and posts telling us what we need. There is a lot of beauty in this when something lands and clicks, and there is something very important in naming. And at the same time, I find myself feeling this sort of “polluted” feeling. There is so much out there. So many spoken words of certainty, and I feel the harshness in explanation, and at times, it even begins to feel like a kind of pollution.
I am in awe of different cultures, Indigenous cultures, and how one may speak. Some cultures speak from an embodied relational way, and sometimes less words is more. “I need to plan what I am doing next” is probably more familiar to us than “When it’s time, I will know.” This relational way holds a connection filled with mysteries, the unknown, and trust, the trust that is built from relationship.
Certainty has its place, and sometimes certainty is an embodied experience. You just know… And I guess where I am getting at is dialogue is so important. I resonated with Carl Anthony, an urban planner, environmental justice leader, and former president of the Earth Island Institute, whose work has long explored the intersection of ecology, race, and community, said in an interview with Theodore Roszak, founder of the field of ecopsychology. I will quote him:
Not being right is only a problem when you have a very tenuous, fearful relationship with somebody. But if you are in substantial dialogue with another person, then you learn through trial and error. Fear is really the problem.
I feel this in my bones. In a world that values certainty and explanation, sometimes, just sharing an unfinished thought, asking questions, being open to other interpretations is vulnerable, and for some, scary.
I just had a thought in writing this, and as I am one who sometimes has a hard time putting things into words, I think:
Maybe someone can help me find language to all of this…
I am beginning to find more clarity for myself in this liminal space. I am feeling more called to stay with my body’s offerings, and being true to this to me feels ever changing, ever evolving, ever not certain, and in this uncertainty, surprisingly, feeling moments of clarity and feeling held by the universe.
-Imuri
