What urge is it within you that craves to know the answer to everything? Beloveds, knowledge has its limits. As soon as you know something, it is all sewn up. You have sewed it up. You have made a complete circle and enclosed it. When you keep the circle completed, you keep other possibilities out.
I would like to speak of the virtues of not knowing, the virtue of leaving a question wide open, letting it grow wider, letting it be filled with itself instead of answers. Answers are neat. They end in a period. A question mark allows for greater possibilities. There are subjects on which there never is the last word.
If there is a last word, it is God. Yet God is the first word as well. There is no in between really. The one word "God" encompasses everything. The Vast Field of Knowingness does not encompass the intellect. The intellect would like to be an equal partner, yet the intellect simply cannot ante up enough. It can't play in the really big games. The intellect serves in its own dominion, but its dominion has borders. The intellect is just not big enough a player. All credit to the intellect, yet it can only go so far.
The intellect does not really want to break down doors. It wants to collect all the neat little packages it can, and then close the doors.
Knowingness, as opposed to knowledge, leaves doors wide open. We can even say that knowingness removes doors altogether.
By its nature, the intellect must make partitions. The intellect desires to bump into something. The intellect desires confines. It would have borders, neat ones, sort of like a formal garden. Very nice to walk through yet quite laid out in a recognizable form. A map can be made of a formal garden.
The Garden of Knowing is a little wild. It might be considered very wild by some. It is a Garden of Wonders. It has a plan. It follows a pattern, yet one so wild the intellect cannot capture it, cannot put its finger on it. A map cannot be made of it, for it is a map that would have to change before your very eyes according to your expanding awareness.
The Garden of Knowing is a Garden of Surprise. It is full of surprises, one after the other. Your mouth is open; you are agog. There is no circumference. There is no top, no bottom, no sides, no measurements at all, and yet it is a Garden of Splendor, this immeasurable Garden of Knowingness.
You have been here. You have lived here in this Garden of Knowingness. It is always available to you. It may not be discernible to you, and yet you have more awareness of it than you have knowledge. Every now and then something seems familiar to you. You draw a deep breath, and then you forgot what it was that seemed familiar to you. Then you are left with only the thought that something was. You almost had words for it, but the words flew away, and the thought flew out of your reach. The familiarity may well be beyond words.
How do you describe a sound in words, beloveds? How do you describe what is deep within your heart? How do you describe the indescribable? You may not be able to describe it, but you can know it. It is like a throb in your heart, or it is like your heart skipping a beat. And yet what really is skipped is the intellect. You are jumping right over it, and going past it into this Land of Discovery where the intellect cannot follow.
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