Rob Knight

I don't know what I'm doing.

August 07, 2010

Last Fall, I posted a tweet that simply said, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” At the time, I really didn’t know what I was doing. A lot of thoughts were spinning around in my head and a general feeling of uneasiness dominated my mindset. It was a weird time that I ended up pondering in a couple of posts I wrote late last year.

As short-lived as tweets are, I’ve remembered that line several times recently. I’ve said it quietly to myself. I’ve written down on sticky notes and stuck it to the side of my monitor. I started to write it on my hand in pen one day before realizing that might be difficult to explain to others. Not knowing what you are doing is one thing. Going bat-shit crazy and writing phrases on your hand makes the neighbors look at you funny.

"I don't know what I'm doing by Rob Knight on Twitter"

However, rather than invoke fear or concern, I’ve come to love that phrase. When I say it to myself, it makes me smile. When I see it, I see something completely different than I saw last Fall. Even though that sentiment is more true now than at any other time in my life, it brings me a small level of comfort that I appreciate.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I really don’t. And that’s the beauty of it all. If I did know what I was doing, everything would be too easy. Life would be easy. And probably pretty boring. If I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m probably being creatively challenged to come up with answers to some difficult problems. Or I’m dealing with life situations that I’ve never dealt with before. Or I’m trying to shed worries and fears that kept me from achieving my goals. That is far more interesting.

I was having a conversation with a friend on Friday and we were talking about LOST. I was talking about how the end of the show left a lot of unanswered questions. I wasn’t concerned that I didn’t get all of my questions answered. There were plenty of questions I didn’t want answers to. There is such a beauty in not knowing how things are going to turn out. Part of that beauty is you get to shape it and it will invariably twist and turn and surprise you. It’s a risk, right? A beautiful risk.

Sometimes, you just have to do what you feel is the best thing to do at a particular moment and then see what happens. Because feelings…nope. Not going to say it. Just can’t say it. (Sorry, inside joke. Ask me about it in person)