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  • Writer's pictureSamantha Morgan

I Don't Know - The Three Most Underrated Words of Our Time

Winding roads ahead sign.
Signs, always fucking up the scenery.

I don’t know. I don’t know? I don’t know!

Have you ever not known something - whether it was in a relationship, in a class, or with a decision - or let's be real and just call it life? The answer is yes. If you said no, you’re a little dick head whose parents probably pay your rent, and although I’m jealous of that fact, I’m not jealous of your arrogance. We don’t know shit! We’re all walking around like, “Woahhh, what the fuck am I doing?!” And so we look to others and say, “You there, can you help me know!” And they respond, "Know what?" And you say, "Well, anything!" And they say, “Well, society says get the car, the tits, and the six figure job... and then you'll know.” And you say, "Know what?" And they say, "Well, I don't know - do you know?" So you see, no one knows.

Life is a big, fat mystery. We’ve learned a lot about it, that is true. But at the end of the day, even when we’ve explained away how, the mystery still lies in why? Why are we here?

Perhaps it’s so we can all be really holy and worship a guy in the sky, and if we do this we're rewarded with eternal happiness and virgins when we die. LOL. Right. Perhaps it’s because we’re souls who get to pick experiences in consciousness which we chose when we were sitting up in the soul office area looking through flyers as to which reality would help you get woke enough to transcend. Perhaps it was a mistake, a glitch in the matrix. Or my personal fave, aliens put us here as an experiment to observe, but the guy (obvi a guy fucked this up) managing the buttons went out for a cigarette break and came back to see Donald Trump in office and was like, oh fuck. You're fired!

But whichever is “true,” we don’t get to know. And the reality is we may never. And we just have to walk around with our hands in our pockets pretending that’s a sensation we enjoy. And since we can't really know why we're here or what we're doing, we find ways to pretend like we do. It's in subtle attempts, like for instance, getting married (no offense ya'll). Those three little words "I love you (the most overrated words of our time)" and the ring on that finger promises forever, but reality rears it's ugly head when we start to fall out of love with that person and the 22 year old at the bakery is suddenly the most fuckable human on Earth. "But we took vows!" Famous last words of the dude whose wife is now fucking Tim at the bakery. I mean honestly, you both made a promise you weren't sure you could keep because nothing can be promised. That doesn't mean it can't work out for the better or still enrich many of our lives, or that people don't do it well. But let's be real that a ring and an exchange of words doesn't guarantee "forever." Forever isn't real - nothing stays as it is forever. And if more people were honest about that going in, maybe that in itself would help the entire institution of marriage.

We like to put a lot of emphasis on knowing. We reward those who know and we chastise those who don’t. But knowing is a privilege, and don’t you forget it. Money can buy you lot’s of knowing, but that doesn’t necessarily make you right. And absolutely no one knows what is best for you, and at times you won't know either. Life is the ultimate teacher, and I read somewhere that it's such a good teacher it will keep giving you the same lessons until you learn them. The nice thing is whether you're Ghandi or a sack of hot garbage, there is *always* something that can be learned if you open yourself up to it! Some of my more regrettable moments in life (i.e. that trip to rehab at 17) were actually setting the course for a very robust, meaningful life. I'm not saying try meth, but if you do... it could work out, that's all. But that's my journey. You're on your journey, and maybe your journey is meth free. Kudos. But the only way you begin to know is by admitting you don't. It allows you to get a little curious which opens up the door to explore.

You should explore the world around you, but more importantly explore the world within you. Maybe that’s why we’re here. We’re each little pioneers of our destiny, and whether it’s all mapped out and meant to be or not, it’s our duty to take on the role of exploring our lives and our minds and our hearts until there is nothing left. Impermanence, chaos, stars exploding, and mystery are the inherent language of the Universe, and I’d be lying if I said that gave me warm fuzzies when I go to close my eyes at night. But I’m doing my best to let it in. So in the moments I say “I don’t know,” that’s actually the most honest I can be. And honesty, for me anyway, is the language I strive to speak.

I’m learning to get comfortable with the lack of knowing in my life, and it’s been uncomfortable. I don’t really love the idea that I’m going to die and will lose everything I’ve cherished and built in my life, but that doesn't make it any less true. Admitting I don't know when I'll die actually places a high level of meaning on the (unknown) time I do have. Maybe we're not rehearsing for anything, maybe there is no heaven and no hell and this is it. And if this is it, you better god damed do it.

As I said in my last blog, I’ve been switching a lot of scripts in my head. I used to know everything, and now the more I know I realize I don't actually know much. Everything I thought I knew has now been blurred. For instance, I used to think that losing ten pounds would bring me the ultimate happiness. Suddenly I’d drink less and have my shit together, and men would flock to me for it. But I’ve lost ten pounds, and I’ve gained ten pounds, and my shitty feelings about myself remained the same. The problem wasn't in the weight I had or didn't have, but in the ideal that something as futile as my weight would be a resolution to happiness - certainly such a small amount. Ten pounds? Get the fuck out of here, Linda. Or that losing weight would somehow resolve my deep rooted addictions. If anything the act of losing weight by being kinder and healthier to my body would've been a start in the right direction - which is just now sinking in. Regardless, It's become clear that losing ten fucking pounds wasn’t the answer the Universe was trying to get me to see (I speak about the Universe as if it’s my human friend, although I know it’s just gas balls exploding - in a nutshell). Losing ten fucking pounds of fat cannot be my purpose on Earth.

Purpose comes from exploring the narratives you believe about yourself and the world - where they come from and how you can adjust them to align with the life you actually want. Everything is coated in illusion, and it takes an open mind to see through the bullshit. The Universe all this time really just wanted me to see that I’m a fucking capable ass, human, woman who’s had so much privilege handed to her, it would be a fucking shame to keep crying over ten pounds of fat when I could potentially be making an impact in this nutty world. And that my self-worth and whether men want to be with me or not does not depend upon ten pounds of fat. And if it did, fucking kill me now. It has to depend upon so much more, and I realize that not everyone will share these viewpoints with me - but that's what's wrong with the world. It's our shitty beliefs about it - not the world itself. They aren't real, they aren't solid, and today seems as good a day as any to start letting go of them. Our life really depends upon these 7(ish) pound brains, and our hearts, and what we do in this world and how we treat others while doing it.

Ultimately (but far from limited to) I have this body to protect my brain and my heart, and when I say heart I mean our life force that drives us. Our brains are important, but you need a little heart, too - ya feel me? It's great to be reasonable, but it's something else to feel this life. It extends beyond the words we say and the art we create - those are just the beautiful ways with which we try to express whatever this is. And I'm so grateful for them. I'm so grateful to anyone who has the power (which is all of us) to express themselves - it takes guts. I'm not saying we have souls since this is a blog about not knowing shit, but there is a certain something that gives us life beyond how we comprehend and perceive it on a mental level - do you agree?

Our truly incomprehensible bodies allow us to share all that's within it, which is the real ticket. To hell with how they look, although I got really lucky in the body department. I'm lucky that I have all of my limbs and a high-functioning brain. I'm able to see clearly and hear loudly. I’m able to climb fucking mountains with my legs. And to think I hated my legs for so long because there's cellulite on them. I have ten pounds of excess fat, and cellulite, and I’ve climbed mountains - and the climbing of the mountain isn't what stood out to me in that sentence? Are you fucking high, Slam? I’ve stood atop a fucking mountaintop as I peered down at the planet I inhabit, and all I could think about is how my legs would look better if they were more toned! What a fucking joke! I'm lucky that I have all of my senses and limbs to aid me in this experience, but even those who lack their sight, or hearing, or limb having are still doing amazing shit. Again, we should never underestimate how powerful our minds and hearts are. My friend Mandy Horvath climbed a mountain with her fucking arms since she ain't got no legs. We are not limited by what we don't have in the physical realm, our minds allow us to defy it, and that's fucking brilliant.

It's truly a gift. And when the Universe gave me my body it said, "Here ya go, go do some shit now." And I'm like, "But what do I do?" And the Universe said softly, "You'll figure it out, but it's not crying over ten pounds of fat you dummy." And it took me quite a while to realize this, how complex and deep it is to be alive. And sometimes it's hard for me to swallow it all, so I whine about ten pounds of fat. But it's so much more, and sometimes it comes out in comedy, or drug use, or tears of joy or sorrow, or helping someone else out who needs it beyond any level I'll likely ever know... and it's all of it. The Universe must be so delighted with me, it must think you finally see all I ever wanted for you was for you to be you, and to live and to help others live, too.

The gig is up. I can’t hate myself - my body, my anxious mind, or my empathic heart anymore because I’m one of the luckiest people I know. I don’t have much. I certainly don’t have an excess of money, or even possessions that I could sell and travel very far with. Maybe to Boston. But that’s enough! That’s so much more than so many people have. And to live hating yourself for what you have (or don’t have) is a damn shame, buttercup. Because you are a lovely creature who came into existence for this brief, strange time, and I hope you live the hell out of it. I hope regardless of what others have said or done to you that it doesn’t have to be true - because they don’t fucking know! And neither do you of what is to come, or not come. Or of what you’ll be or won’t be. Or what you should or shouldn’t do. So explore it. Explore until there are no more rocks to turn over and no more roads to veer off of. None of them are the wrong way if you can admit you just don’t know.

You can only begin to know what you try. And what you find to be true in your explorations may not remain true forever, or even for a short time. I don’t know if moving to NY was the "right" thing to do. It's certainly expanded my world view, but so could any city. I don’t know if switching jobs for the third time right before I go on two vacations is the best financial decision I've ever made. I don’t know if I’ll ever get married and have children. I don’t know if I’ll ever "make it" as a comedian or a writer. But what I do know is that I don’t know. And the only way to seemingly know is to explore these narratives and decisions. Explore More.

So get curious, I say. Get curious about what you’re able to do in this little lifetime of yours - limbs or no limbs. And get curious about how it could impact others. Because although we’re a bunch of narcissists on some spectrum, one thing I am learning is how we treat others has a direct effect on our lives. And that the more we give the more we get. Not in some manifested way, or maybe it is, but that to love others is to love yourself. Because we’re all in this together team. We’re each a piece in the puzzle of life and we should all be doing our part to make it a little more bearable for one another. Especially to the assholes, and super especially to the people who’ve been hurt by the assholes. Trauma breeds trauma, if you can be of any influence in changing that - that's power.

This is your invitation, given by yours truly, to explore the fuck out of your life. Not that you needed one. But it’s there. And you're going to make mistakes, and you're going to ruffle some feathers - certainly your own - if you're doing it "right." All roads lead to the same destination - death. You are going to die, and it may hurt. So from here until then is a giant mystery, and hey, maybe that is pretty fucking cool.

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