How Do You Prepare for the Unknown?

Q: How Do You Prepare for the Unknown?

A: Settling into the warmth of radiant floor heating, cozying into a cashmere blanket, having just steeped in a hot bath full of salt and essential oils, feeling quite human again while sipping on a delicious coconut mylk matcha latte, I am considering this question in a different way than perhaps I would have just weeks ago. And yes, I recognize I am completely spoiled right now. So, I see your question and I’ll raise you two answers.

Have you ever looked forward to a trip for nearly a year? Felt the call, imagined the journey, eventually made all the arrangements (hours of pouring through Airbnb etc.); traversed your work schedule and negotiated with your colleagues, orchestrated the interweaving of simultaneous art projects to coincide perfectly within the dates allotted for travel, arrival and deep-diving; coordinated a plant-sitter, house-checker, and snow-plower; mapped out driving according to obligatory Hot Springs soaks more or less along the way; packed all the inspiring books, the incense and sage for smudging hotels, the favorite and transformative power crystal, the guitar, storyboard, pilot 07 blue pens, old journal with just a few more days, new journal awaiting days to come; way too many clothes…for options even though you will spend most of this trip in sweats and rain boots bought at local hardware store; yoga mat, sheepskin, rolling things, hard balls, soft balls, straps and loops; and of course the organic bath products, exfoliators, oils…you catch my drift, right?

Right. A Taurus Moon does not equal a light packer, it does however equal comfort and an aesthetically pleasing environment wherever I find myself.

After arriving, settling, releasing, decompressing, I am finally ready to do what I came to this magical Canadian Southern Gulf Isle to do. Write.

Then came the natural disaster…well, first there was that other abrupt U-turn that nearly flipped my metaphorical car but that is a different story.

Coming back to the question, as to how one prepares for the unknown…well, all of that to say that I am not sure you can, fully.

The moment when I realized that my plans were seized in the storm and the 100-mile hour winds were whipping my state of relaxation around like a live wire powerline, all I could do was surrender.

Body in one piece, check. Everyone around me, check. Water, hmmm, maybe enough, check. Try to get home, check. Can’t, ok…now what? Night was coming, traffic and hysteria were building, the storms were returning and there were at least 20 roadblocks of several trees at each curve of the road between me and my experience of safety. Serendipitous reunions in the rain, deep swelling hearts of generosity, the warmth of other humans letting down their guard, and some good old-fashioned optimism in the face of the aforementioned unknown felt like jolts of superpowers to the soul. And following adventure after hazard, adrenaline after fear, chainsaw after hacksaw; that night I slept in my very cold bed, grateful to be there, regardless of the below freezing temperatures.

Little did I know this was just the beginning of a week-long struggle for many of the islanders who would remain without power through the holidays. And a Canadian winter without power is as cold as you would imagine.

In the short period of time I found myself in the sudden exploration of the precariousness of this reality, I observed my mind vacillate between heaven and hell on a frequent basis. At times I would tell myself, “Oh, this is an epic experience! I can actually feel myself getting stronger with every degree the temperature drops.” At others, “I stink, what I would give for a hot shower. I would be sick if I wasn’t willing myself with every ounce to hold it together, I want to break down and cry, but then I will really freeze. Could I die?”

I saw my faith grow before my eyes, amidst the discomfort while stretching into unprecedented levels of adaptability. I also felt into my responsibilities, to my family and friends, to my company and co-founders I am accountable to; my collaborators and creative babies running wild in my mind’s eye, and thus quickly organized myself around how to accomplish my communication, tasks and deadlines on a timely basis despite the worst storm in Salt Spring History. That last part about tasks and deadlines, very Capricornian indeed, could be perceived as a bit extravagant to some, and I would like to remind those people that Capricorns not only work for fun, we transform through our work, it is our talent, we can do it in our sleep.

And the following could have been my answer a few weeks ago and I still agree with it today, (though I did write it today, imagining myself as I was before). I realize the only way to prepare for what is unknown is to do my inner work today. Every prayer, contemplation, moment of meditation, deep stretch of my body, surrender of my desires, and healthful choice counts, not only now, but mostly then. The then that exists in a time beyond now, in a land far away called the future. How far? We don’t know. It could be tomorrow, it could be years from now, the distance of the future remains an unsolvable mystery. What is certain when facing the unknown is that today does matter. The life stored in my cells up until now will have an effect on who I am being tomorrow. However, the texture and tone of that effect belongs to the unknown in question. Either who I have been will continue to grow, pulse and perhaps emanate into a stronger version of me, or, hopefully, I will die to the old, in mind, in emotion, and be reborn into the new. I could venture through inner travel within my soul, within my skin, similar to the caterpillar metamorphosing into a new mystical breed of sorts; a butterfly who has the capacity to relish and thrive within, none other than…the Unknown.

And now for a moment of poetry that may ravish your heart:

“THE JOURNEY
Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.”
― David Whyte