The unknown is difficult because it offers nothing stable to organize around. The mind begins producing futures so that at least one thing can feel certain—even if the certainty is frightening.
We may not be able to stop prediction. We can notice when prediction is being mistaken for information.
Try giving the unknown a boundary. I do not know what will happen next month. I do know what is required today. Or: I cannot know how this conversation will be received. I can know how I want to enter it.
This does not transform uncertainty into peace. It returns us to the scale at which choice is possible.
Not knowing is not the absence of wisdom. It can be the refusal to fill open space with a story simply because a story feels easier to hold.
There are moments when the most grounded sentence available is also the least complete: I do not know yet, and I am still here.