A NEW DOOR

As we all walk our path, something unexpected often happens: we begin to feel that we know less than we once believed.

It’s not that we become confused. It’s that the ideas we used to lean on—our beliefs, opinions, and conclusions—start to loosen. What once felt like truth begins to feel like interpretation. What we called knowledge was often a way to feel secure, accepted, or in control.

We begin to see that the mind doesn’t show us reality as it is. It shows us a version of it—shaped by memory, emotion, habit, and fear. And as those layers thin, certainty starts to fade. But this isn’t a loss. It’s a kind of quiet return.

Letting go of knowing doesn’t make us empty. It makes us present. When we stop clinging to fixed answers, a deeper kind of seeing can emerge—one that listens instead of labels, receives instead of resists.

This not-knowing is not confusion. It’s openness. It’s the humility to let things be without needing to control or explain them. It allows us to meet life freshly, moment by moment.

And with it comes a different kind of peace—not the peace of understanding everything, but the peace of not needing to.

Sometimes that peace arises when we no longer argue.
When we stop trying to be right.
When we see that everyone is speaking from the truth of their own experience—and in that context, everyone is right in their own way.

It’s not about agreeing with everything. It’s about no longer needing to push against it.
Behind every perspective is a story. And behind every story, a human being doing their best to make sense of life.

When we see this, something softens.
We no longer need to defend ourselves.
We no longer need to fix others.

We just allow things to be as they are.
And in that quiet allowing, peace begins to grow.

Not knowing. Not controlling. Just being.

That’s where peace lives.