The Known and the Unknown

Last year, my husband was driving home from work across an expressway bridge during rush hour. He was hit from the side by a car that didn’t yield. As his pickup spun 180 degrees and slid down the railing toward a precipitous fall into the river, his only thought was, “How will I get out of this one?”

It seems that each of us lives on an island of stability that is surrounded by the mysterious unknown. The Known gives us fortitude and courage: it is the soil in which we deepen our roots. The Known is our home, our family, job or career, our friends. It’s the electricity that keeps flowing into our appliances, the gas always available for our cars, the highways we drive that are always well-maintained. It’s schools and stores and law and order.

This island—usually our preferred area of operation—is surrounded by the less certain. Just outside of our most solid borders lies an adventure: perhaps we’ll go somewhere new for vacation, or we might consider a job with an entirely new and unknown company. Or our electricity might go out unexpectedly: what does it mean? Or an intense storm might be tracking our way. How will we deal with this less-known quantity? What changes might it bring us, and do we want them? Can we avoid the parts of this relatively known territory that might harm us? We move more cautiously here. Parts of us might long to journey across the known borders in order to learn, grow and innovate, experiences less possible in the world of the status quo.

Then, farther into the wilderness, there are the exciting, thrilling and often fear-inspiring moments when the Ocean of the Absolutely Unknown shows up at our doorsteps. This tidal wave is unexpected, and its danger level is high. The Great Unknown disintegrates the foundation-stones of the Known: it’s a threat of divorce, a lawsuit, an audit, a tornado, cancer, or a serious accident. You realize that what you thought was real and solid is now porous, spongy, uncertain. It is crumbling before your eyes.

“Then, there are the exciting, thrilling and often fear-inspiring moments when the Ocean of the Absolutely Unknown shows up at our doorsteps. This tidal wave is unexpected, and its danger level is high.”

Back to the story about my husband. As his truck’s axles dug a groove in the top of the cement railing as it tilted toward the river, as he desperately held onto the steering wheel, all he could think was, “How will I get out of this one?” It turns out, he did get out of it, relatively unscathed (although his truck didn’t), and he got something out if it, as well. The Great Unknown can show us chaos. It seems to me that potential opportunity is carried in on its wild waves. What Adam gleaned from his accident is a story for him to tell, but it opened him wide and brought him transformation unlikely to have ever come from the safety of the Island of the Known.

Now that the Great Unknown of 2020 seems to be settling a bit into the Relatively Unknown, can we look toward incorporating the strange gifts bestowed by the chaos we’ve experienced this past year? In the near future, will we attempt to revert back to the Known As It Was Before? Or are we utterly changed by the special fresh knowledge that our recent shake-ups have birthed in us?

For my part, the earthquakes of the past year have humbled me and removed a certain blindness. The coronavirus tidal wave hit my life, and, as the waters recede, I’m left with fresh understandings, new priorities. Many things that I held tightly before are falling away. The complexity has been stripped off, leaving me with renewed focus, flexibility, stronger resolve, and clearer goals.

Last year came with significant losses. But, surprised, I’m also realizing that my personal transformations from that twelve-month period rival those of my past decade. And, for that, I have only to thank the Great Unknown.

Are any of the hard-won gifts of the Great Unknown emerging at this time in your life? Please share in the comments.

Initiated as a tradition-holder in the Nahua/Mexican weather worker lineage in May 2003 by don Lucio Campos de Elizalde of Nepopualco, Morelos, Mexico, Erin Everett is a weather worker, life counselor, ceremonial leader, and traditional healer. She is known in Nahuatl as a quiatlzques and in Spanish as a tiempera. As are many in this tradition, she was struck by lightning in her youth, which is a known calling to this path. A native of western North Carolina, she and her colleagues work with weather in the Asheville, NC geographical region. More information about their work, tradition, and teachers can be found at seedsoftradition.org.