Was I always meant to live here in peace—in this state of knowing that I can never know? And that single Truth has been the reason for my lack of peace—because my intense need or want or obsession to know more and more and more until no one else on all the earth could ever know more has been my insanity-inducing state of being—because I was never meant or created or inspired to know anything more than the peace of knowing that I can never know. 
At least not here. 
At least not now. 
And isn’t that just as sweet as the juice my mom pressed out of the grapes from the vine in our backyard? That’s why I stood by her side as she crushed them on the countertop to make jellies and jams and even pies—that sweetness that soaked into my tongue when she offered me a taste was what I mistook for the Truth.
I was never meant or created or inspired to fill up and overflow on the sweetness of those grapes—for their sweetness was so brief, so fleeting, so lacking to fill the space.
And yet the space was so empty it had to be filled—and so I languished in that insanity inducing state as I chased it in liquor and drugs and men and applause, until I admitted there was nothing I knew and never really tried to know because it always took too much energy just to breathe. 
And then the insanity-inducing state turned into a terror of trying to gather knowing from others, and learning how much I would never know instead.
At least not here.
At least not now. 
For truly, He has let me in on a secret—I was meant and created and inspired to sit patiently awakening in His presence, knowing I need not know anything but Him. 
That, my friends, is the only sweetness that never ends.