To some extent I happily don't know what I'm doing. I feel that

Hear, O seeker of truth and creation, the words of David Byrne, strange and luminous, like fire dancing in the dark: “To some extent I happily don’t know what I’m doing. I feel that it’s an artist’s responsibility to trust that.” These are not the words of confusion, but of freedom. They speak to the mystery at the heart of creation, where the mind yields to something greater than itself, and the hand obeys the whisper of inspiration. For true art is not born from certainty, but from the sacred embrace of the unknown.

The origin of this wisdom lies in the ancient dance between control and surrender. Man has always sought mastery—over land, over craft, over destiny itself. Yet the greatest works of spirit, whether in painting, poetry, or song, often come not when the artist knows all, but when he releases himself to mystery. Byrne, with his playful voice, reminds us that the artist is not a mere craftsman assembling parts, but a vessel through which the unseen flows. To “not know what one is doing” is not ignorance, but humility before the infinite.

The ancients themselves spoke of this surrender. The Greeks called it the voice of the Muse, descending upon the poet who, in ecstasy, uttered truths greater than his own wisdom. Plato himself said the greatest poets wrote not from reason, but from divine madness, from a gift that swept them beyond knowledge. Likewise, the Hebrew psalmist sang songs not from calculation, but from a heart overtaken by God. Byrne’s words stand in this lineage, proclaiming that the artist must trust the unknown, for it is there that the eternal speaks.

Consider the tale of Jackson Pollock, who abandoned the rigid brushstrokes of tradition to fling paint upon canvas. Critics mocked him, scholars puzzled at his work, yet Pollock himself confessed he did not fully know what he was doing. And therein lay the power. By trusting the mystery, he uncovered a new language of form and motion, one that changed the course of art. His surrender to uncertainty became the pathway to revelation.

But let us not confine this truth to the artist’s studio. In life itself, all men and women are artists, shaping each day as a canvas. To walk always by certainty is to walk a narrow path; but to embrace the unknown is to discover lands unseen. Byrne’s call is not merely to painters and musicians, but to all who live: dare to create without full knowledge, dare to act without full assurance, and in the daring you will uncover the beauty that reason alone cannot birth.

The lesson is clear. Trust the mystery. Do not wait until every answer is known, for then the moment will have passed. Step forward, even in uncertainty, with faith that life itself will meet you halfway. Allow the unexpected to guide you, for in it lies the possibility of greatness. At the same time, cultivate humility, knowing that creation is larger than the self, and that what flows through you may be wiser than you could ever plan.

Practical action flows from this wisdom. If you are an artist, let go of perfection and trust the process—write, paint, sing, even when you do not fully understand what you are making. If you are a seeker of life, embrace ventures that call to you, even when the path is unclear. Do not fear mistakes, for they are the brushstrokes of the greater picture. Keep your heart open, your hands willing, and your trust placed not in certainty, but in the living mystery of creation.

So remember: to “not know what you are doing” is not weakness, but strength, when paired with trust. For from the chaos of unknowing arises the spark of revelation. And as Byrne teaches, it is the artist’s holy responsibility—and the human’s as well—to walk forward with courage into the unknown, and there discover the infinite.