There is a moment where certainty dissolves, where the edges blur, and all that’s left is the quiet hum of not-knowing. It feels like falling, but falling into what? Into the vastness of life, into the depth of being.

The unknown whispers to us. Not in words, but in the spaces between them. It calls not for answers, not for solutions, but for surrender. A letting go so complete that even the one who lets go is left behind.

To fall into the unknown is not to lose yourself but to meet what you’ve always been. It is the groundless ground, the stillness beneath all movement, the silence that holds every sound.

At the threshold of the known and unknown fear may arise, a reflex of holding on, a trembling before the vastness. A moment where courage is called for. Not the kind of courage that overcomes or conquers, but the tender courage to stay open, to meet what arises, and to step through that doorway into the depths of life itself.

And on the other side? Not answers. Not certainty. But the gentle radiance of Being itself. A simplicity so profound it doesn’t need to be understood. A presence so intimate it cannot be found outside yourself.

This is the beauty of the unknown. The invitation to stop searching, to stop grasping, and to rest fully and completely in what has always been here. Not out there, not someday, but right here, right now.

And in that resting, the truth quietly reveals itself. Not in flashes of insight or grand realisations, but in the unshakable knowing of what is. A knowing that needs no name, no explanation, no certainty.

The unknown isn’t a void to fear; it’s the very fabric of life itself. It is where all things rise and fall, where all things are born and return. And when you meet it, you meet yourself not as a separate being, but as the boundless, infinite heart of it all.