In Praise of Not Knowing

In Zen, there’s a teaching called “don’t-know mind.”

It’s not ignorance. It’s not helplessness.

It’s a quiet posture of not rushing to name what hasn’t yet revealed itself. It’s an approach to living fully alive, meeting each moment with curiosity.

And in therapy, this stance - this open, alert not-knowing - is often where the real work begins.

We live in a culture obsessed with answers.

• Self-help.

• Productivity.

• Diagnosis.

• Certainty.

• Action

But the psyche doesn't move on command.

It unfolds. In layers. In symbol. In silence.

The deeper truths take time to arrive.

When patients ask: “Is this normal?” or “What should I do?”

There’s often an urge - both in them and in me tbh - to do something. To answer. To rescue the unknown. To flatten the space into clarity.

But I’ve learned, over and over, that the impulse to answer too quickly can abort the deeper knowing trying to emerge.

Not-knowing is not a lack.It’s a practice.

One that honors the soul’s timing, not the ego’s timeline.

In the therapy space - and in life - “I don’t know” can be the most essential knowing.

It’s what softens the grip of premature conclusions.

What allows grief to become grief, instead of a project.

What lets desire whisper what it wants, before strategy takes over.

In psychedelic integration, too, this stance is vital. Not every image means something yet. Not every insight needs action.
Sometimes the lesson is simply this: stay with what is unclear.

Stay with what is aching to be born.

So if you're in a moment of uncertainty… If the answers aren’t landing, if the floor has fallen out from underneath your feet.

Know that you may be exactly where you’re supposed to be.

I don’t know is not a problem to solve.

It’s a doorway.