Beyond Knowing—Into the Miraculous

I’ve been in a bit of a funk.

It started quietly—just a resistance in my body when I thought about my upcoming trip to Canada. I kept telling myself I was too busy to book the flight, that I’d get to it tomorrow.

But the real reason finally became clear:

I already know how it’s going to go.

Or so I’ve been telling myself.

I know how my kids will be. How my family will show up. How the visits with friends will unfold. I have the whole trip pre-written in my mind. No surprises. Just a movie I’ve played before—one that ends with me feeling the same or even worse, unchanged.

And that knowing?

It’s killing the possibility of anything else.

It’s wild to see it this clearly. The way I’ve let the past masquerade as certainty. The way I’ve unconsciously chosen predictability over presence. The way I’ve even decided that some conversations aren’t worth having because I already know they won’t go anywhere.

But I don’t actually know.

What I’ve been calling knowing is really just fear wearing the costume of experience. It’s a strategy to protect myself from being disappointed, vulnerable, or out of control.

And here’s the even more uncomfortable truth:

I’ve gone beyond just predicting outcomes—

I’ve tried to control them.

I’ve tried to curate the trip so it unfolds differently. Planning interactions. Managing expectations. Shaping others' behavior in my head before we even speak. All of it an attempt to guarantee a better outcome.

But in doing so, I’ve stepped out of relationship.

Out of flow. Out of trust.

Out of creation.

I’ve been living inside a script instead of meeting the moment.

And that’s not who I am anymore.

This year, I declared that I am causing the miraculous.

And what is a miracle, really?

A miracle has been defined as an event that happens in time and space that causes an expansion in what we know to be possible.

Which means:

Miracles don’t live inside what we already know.

They live beyond it.

Beyond the past. Beyond the stories. Beyond the patterns I’ve grown weary of replaying.

To cause miracles, I have to be willing to walk into the unknown.

To release my grip on certainty.

To meet each moment as if it’s never happened before—because it hasn’t.

That is what’s possible when I give up what I think I know.

That’s where magic lives.

So today, I’m doing something radical in its simplicity:

I’m booking the flight.

Not because I’ve solved anything. Not because I know how it’s going to go.

But because I don’t.

And maybe that’s the point.

Because what if the conversations I’ve avoided are worth having?

What if my children show me something I’ve never seen before?

What if laughter comes in the places I’ve braced for disappointment?

What if I’ve been so busy trying to manage the story that I’ve forgotten how to live it?

Where in our lives do we do this—

choose certainty over possibility?

Let our past write the future before it even arrives?

And what becomes possible when we stop needing to know?

This is the journey I’m on. The experiment I’ve committed to.

To live beyond the known.

To cause the miraculous.

Because if miracles truly are events that expand what we believe is possible, then they can only meet us in the space where we let go of control.

So I’m going.

I’m choosing presence over prediction.

Letting go of the script.

Trusting life.

And opening myself to co-creating the most magical experiences ever with the people I love.

Because I believe in miracles.

And I believe they begin the moment we stop pretending we know and finally say—

I’m here. Show me.