What If I Never Figure It Out?

What if clarity never comes? What if you stay stuck, uncertain, and spinning forever? In this season finale, we explore the deep discomfort of not knowing—and how Buddhist teachings invite us to meet uncertainty with compassion rather than panic. Through reflections on groundlessness, faith (śraddhā), and the Middle Way, this episode offers gentle guidance for living in the questions when the answers just won’t arrive.

Transcript

 Hello and welcome to What Would Buddha Do, the podcast where we bring timeless wisdom to modern dilemmas. I'm Lena DiGenti. I was raised in the Shambhala Buddha tradition of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, and I've been a lifelong meditation practitioner. I'm also a coach, a meditation instructor, and a yoga teacher. I'm currently training to be a chaplain in the Master of Divinity program at Naropa University.

Today's question is. I've been trying to figure out my next step. I've read the books, I've listened to the podcast, I've talked to my friends, I've journaled, I've meditated, and I still don't know. I'm tired of circling the same questions. What if I never figure it out? What if I stay stuck forever? Let's be honest, this one hits deep because it's not just talking about decision-making.

It's about the fear that something is wrong with us if we don't have clarity yet, that we've missed something, that we've failed to unlock the code or worse, that we're somehow built for stuckness. That's the ache of self-doubt. And the question underneath is often, is this it? Am I always going to feel this lost?

One of the Buddha's core insights was this. Suffering doesn't come from pain. It comes from craving, wanting things to be other than they are. And craving doesn't only apply to money, relationships, or external success. We can crave clarity, we can crave answers, we can cling to the fantasy that one day we'll wake up and just know.

It's not bad, it's human, but the Buddha saw it clearly. The tighter we cling to certainty, the more we suffer when it doesn't come, because clarity doesn't always arrive on schedule. Sometimes we move forward in the fog. Sometimes we grow inside the very confusion we wish we could escape from. Here's the thing: not knowing doesn't mean that you're failing.

It means you're alive in a moment that hasn't resolved yet, and what if that's not a mistake, but actually part of the practice? If the craving for clarity is part of the suffering, then what's the alternative? It's not resignation, it's not giving up. It's learning to stay in the Buddhist practice. We talk about groundlessness, the recognition that things are always shifting, that there's no fixed, solid place to stand.

It's unsettling, but it's also honest because even when we do figure something out, a job, a relationship, a big decision, something else eventually changes. The clarity that we so long for is rarely permanent. The self that we're trying to figure out. That's always changing, too. Our minds want something to land on, but the practice says, what if you let go of needing the landing?

There's a teaching that says when you realize the ground is not solid, you don't fall, you float, and that's the invitation. To soften around the not knowing, to feel the wobble without trying to correct it, to recognize that not having it all figured out is not a personal failure. It's just the nature of things, and that doesn't mean you stop asking big questions.

It just means you ask them from a different place with less desperation and more curiosity, less, I need to fix this and more. What's unfolding here that I don't see? You don't have to force clarity. Sometimes the practice is in learning to rest in the fog until the next shape reveals itself. Underneath the craving for clarity is often a much deeper fear.

What if I'm not enough? What if I'm not the kind of person who figures things out? What if this stuckness means there's something wrong with me? This is where Buddhist psychology, and especially the Shambhala tradition that I was raised in, offers profound healing. And that's the idea of basic goodness.

Basic goodness isn't something you earn by meditating or being wise or making good decisions. It's your natural state. It's the awake whole. Luminous quality of your being. Even when you are confused, you don't need clarity to be good. You don't need a plan to be worthy. You don't have to prove your usefulness to exist.

When the doubt gets loud, you can remind yourself, this is hard, but it doesn't mean I'm broken. This is foggy. I'm still whole, I can be uncertain and still be fundamentally okay. In a world that worships certainty and speed, remembering your basic goodness is actually a really radical act. It's the ground you can return to, not when you've figured it all out, but right now, especially when you haven't.

There's this story that I love about this monk who comes to the Buddhist, to the Buddha, and he has a list of questions. Is the universe eternal or not? Is the soul the same as the body, or is it different? What happens after death? If you can't answer these questions, I'm not practicing. So the Buddha responds with a story.

Imagine that there. There's a man who's been shot with a poisoned arrow, and instead of letting the doctor remove it. He says, Wait, I need to know who shot me. What cast did they belong to? What kind of bow did they use? What wood was the arrow made of? What kind of poison is it? He demands all the answers, but by the time he gets them, he'll be dead.

The point. We can get so caught up in needing to know, needing to be certain, needing the full picture that we miss the moment we're actually in. The Buddha wasn't saying the questions are bad. He was saying Don't let your craving for clarity. Delay your healing. You don't need to understand everything to begin.

You don't need all the answers to take the next kind step. Sometimes the practices. Let go of the arrow, tend to the wound, let the clarity come later. So what would Buddha do? He wouldn't shame you for not knowing. He wouldn't tell you to hurry up and figure it out. He'd say, stay close to your experience.

Look at the craving for clarity, not with judgment, but with tenderness. Feel the groundlessness, but don't try to force it to be solid. And when the mind starts spinning, what if I don't have the answer? What if I stay stuck forever? You can come back to this question. What if there's nothing wrong with me for not knowing?

There's another teaching that says, Where would you find enough leather to cover the earth? With the leather on the soles of your feet, it's as if the whole earth is covered. You can't smooth out every uncertainty. You can't make the whole path soft or obvious, but you can soften how you walk on it. You can wrap your steps in patience.

You can meet this moment with gentleness even when it's unclear. Because the work isn't to conquer the unknown, it's to move through it with steadiness, with courage, and with faith in your own basic goodness. So maybe it's not about figuring it all out, maybe it's about walking gently until the way opens.