Today, pre-corona virus era, I would have been on a flight to Japan to start the walk of the 88 temple pilgrimage route. Instead, I am finding myself in a different type of pilgrimage, but, very similarly in the betwixt and between, this liminal space between the old and the new. What is different here is that the entire world is in this transition, a season of waiting, a state of not knowing what is coming next. And being in the liminal space of not knowing is not easy: it brings doubt, anxiety, stress and a sense of having lost agency in one’s life. But it also can bring a sense of openness and curiosity and allows for new possibilities to emerge.
When I lead pilgrimages, after a few days of walking, I invite the participants into a practice of Embracing the Unknown. I usually start the conversation with the following Zen koan about not knowing:

Two Zen teachers meet; one is carrying his bags. “Where are you going?”, inquires the first teacher.

“I’m going on a pilgrimage”, the other teacher responds.

“What’s the purpose of pilgrimage?” asks the first teacher.

“I don’t know.” he responds.

“Not knowing is most intimate.” Replies the first teacher

What the teacher in the koan is saying is that not knowing is just right.

Marc Lesser, author of Seven Practices of a Mindful Leader- Lessons from Google and a Zen Monastery Kitchen, while commenting on this koan, writes:
“With not knowing, I am open, ready, willing to learn, to be surprised. I can see and hear others beyond my own ideas. Though my experience and knowledge are important, they can get in the way. When I let go of my own ideas, I can be present, humble. When I am humble, I am not afraid. I can enter this moment, engaged, moved, open – intimate.”

Being comfortable in the not knowing space needs practice: I am inviting you into this practice during a solo contemplative walk.