Ambiguity

So, lets be honest...I really like to know what's going on. There was a prospective student who called my college at least once a week and asked questions like: "what are the measurements of the beds?" "is there filtered water in the dorms?" and "what is dating like on campus?"

In fact, this student called so much that the Admissions receptionist knew her voice.

That student may or may not have been me.

When I took a job for Admissions, writing to students with questions about the school, it was as if I were talking to myself. Students asked all of these questions, and more. I guess we all struggle a bit with ambiguity.

The truth is, I'm never going to know what is going to happen, not in the next ten years, ten months or ten minutes. I might think that I have a good idea, I can plan and architect my life, but I really don't know. Ever.

I love how when something is a real struggle in your life you say things like: "God is really teaching me about [insert struggle] or "I'm learning about [struggle] lately." It makes it nice and boxy, and it may be true, but I just don't think it's that simple. Right now, as always, I'm struggling with ambiguity. At work, in my personal life, even in regards to what I'm packing for lunch tomorrow. I don't know, and while that is hard for me, me with my color-coded agenda (just kidding) and my ical synced to my ipod (not kidding), I know that sometimes life is better when it's a surprise. I might be a good life architect, but God is far more creative than I.

There are very few things that I remember about my Interpersonal Communication class freshman year at EWU. One thing I do remember: we talked about androgyny, and about how the human brain wants to put people into gender categories very much. However, a really sophisticated person can simply tell his or her brain that this distinction doesn't matter.

There are times when being okay with ambiguity can be good. I was thinking about a new wine that I got to try this week at work. It's an '09 vintage and won't be bottled for a good while. I can taste bits of perfection among the heavy oak chips, and heavy sourness. I can feel the sublime in the aftertaste.

It's coming.

I had a ballet teacher, my favorite, who used to say that to me all the time. I'd be thinking of 14 things at once: the invisible string coming out of the top of my head like a puppet, my smile, pointed toes, turned out feet, pulled up knees, abdominals sucking in, being light on my feet and feeling the music, but using all of it...you get the picture. She would come over and observe my movements. When she was watching like that, I would give everything I had. "It's coming," she would say, and it always broke my heart.

But.

That's the thing about life. It's coming. Whether it's an amazing vintage, a gorgeous arabesque, or the rest of your life...even death. It's coming.

There is nothing ambiguous about that. It's the getting there, or having it come to you, that keeps you in the dark.

I'm walking forward without seeing much, prepared to stumble and trip over my pride. Maybe that's part of the point of ambiguity. If I give in to not knowing, I am choosing the opposite of The Fall. I know that I can't be like God, knowing good and evil. But He is, and does. I know that He has me on a need to know basis. Some things: I just don't need to know.