Ignorance

This morning in a meeting I had the clearest sensation of standing in the middle of a windstorm. That I was the eye of a hurricane of all the things I don't know. Grayed, blurry concepts and facts and potentials and pitfalls swirled around me, not so fast as to cut me, but steadily enough that my view of the real, of what is right in front of me, was obscured.
A hollow, scouring noise filled my ears.
This new job is so potentially vast, Conservation International is so literally vast, that I am struck, again and again, by how ignorant I remain about the world. I am still 'discovering' countries, or discovering that countries I assumed were in one place are actually in a wholly other part of the world.
And I need to rent my apartment.
And the wedding plans (though solidifying steadily, and joyously) continue to whip by.
So it may not be ignorance I'm pelted with.
It may be, simply, life.
And the not-knowing what's next might be the best thing for me after all.
I need to write.
(These posts almost always come back to that.)
But how, with a brain unable to swim the information-swell much less surf it, do I make room for the blessed, muse-sweet ignorance that is the fiction in my head?