I have started reading a collection of teachings entitled, The Hidden Lamp: Stories from Twenty-Five Centuries of Awakened Women (pub. 2013). One of the teachers in this collection states, “… In the Zen tradition, there is a saying that ‘not knowing is the deepest intimacy’ …” and she goes on to share the importance of developing her ability to sustain the effort to be present. She also speaks of her resistance to hanging out with discomfort, and how observing her resistance with compassion allows her to move into “intimacy with not knowing”. She also shares how staying present with another who is also willing to show up without defenses and old stories nurtures their capacity to truly see each other.
At the end of her chapter, she poses two questions:
“How do you give up the ‘knowledge’ that keeps you apart from others?”
“What does ‘not knowing’ have to do with intimacy? “
I believe these questions are very relevant to us as writers, as creatives sharing ourselves in the world. Using timed writing practice is a way to enter “not knowing”, letting words arrive on the page without conscious thought, without advance planning. Most often, when I share the words I have just written in a timed writing practice, I’m surprised by what I hear. Writing is a way of learning to be more intimate with who I am, who I am becoming. Sharing with others in a supportive circle takes that intimacy to the next level.
Cultivating Trust and Safety
In order for this level of writing and sharing to happen, there needs to be a sense of trust and safety. What I’ve been learning lately is what it means to create my own sense of safety, to set clear limits on behaviors I find threatening or disrespectful. For perhaps the first time in my life, I’ve been standing my ground and holding space in difficult circumstances. Staying grounded and centred against big, sometimes aggressive, male energy – especially with my male partner – is a new behaviour. I’m wondering if this is what transformation feels like, slowed down in moment-to-moment awareness.
I seem to have developed the capacity to hold at least two realities at the same time: my witness-self observing my habitual inclinations to run and hide, or placate, while the wise-self reminds me to stay. Breathe. Stay here. Now. Sometimes my wise self goes further, suggesting that I move closer to what I’m afraid of, toward what is uncomfortable.
My husband and I have been having more open conversations about fear, disappointment, about whatever feelings have been boiling underneath his angry outbursts. I believe that talking about his big feelings is settling some of the big energy. I have been grounded enough to listen without judgement. The result is a renewed sense of closeness, a renewed quality of intimacy.
A Real Life Example
Here’s an example from a few days ago: I sat with my partner, with the intention of staying present and compassionate, while reminding myself that we are connected by a long-standing strong bond. His choices are not mine, and he can benefit from my steady non-judgmental presence, mirroring the impact of his behavior. I respectfully set limits on what I will not tolerate. Boundaries help me to continue our conversation. It’s like I’m learning how to expand my edges and be present to his angry energy in a way that isn’t running and hiding, or retaliating. This is very new.
Why Am I Writing About This?
Because I find that writing helps me to record the details, to acknowledge subtle shifts, and to notice the small changes in a positive direction. If I don’t write about this experience now, I might overlook an important part of this journey, something that could ultimately be of benefit to others. This is one of the main reasons I write and share: to support others along a similar path, who are willing to notice and spend time in introspection with the intention of healing and growth.
Not only that, as I learn to stay present to what is uncomfortable in my day-to-day life, I am able to explore difficult moments and experiences in my writing. These are the stories that have been emerging lately, the ones that demand to be shared with an audience. These are the stories that will likely be included in my emerging manuscript.
I am using timed writing practice to keep my pen moving, working with the themes and observations that emerge. It’s my time to explore the intimacy of not knowing.
2 thoughts on “Presence, Not Knowing And Intimacy”
Thanks for this sharing Marie. I found it affirming.
Beautifully said or rather written! Thank you!