Unstable Ground

A meditation for this moment.

How do I speak of this moment? How do I speak to this moment?

Hemingway said, “All you have to do is write one true sentence.” So let me start with this: Many of us are afraid. Better yet, let me speak from my own direct experience, since that’s the only truth I can be sure of, and say: I’m afraid.

My wasband David likes to say, “Many have a false sense of security; I have a real sense of insecurity.”

The Buddha taught that everything is uncertain; everything is impermanent; nothing is solid. Like Gary, the man I wrote about who rebuilt his house on the lava field after his previous home burned down, we all construct our lives on transient ground. The only way to find equanimity is to learn to sit quietly amidst the shifting, rippling tides of existence. As I wrote in The Fourth Messenger:

The ocean holds the waves

The fire holds the flames

And you can hold it all in your awareness.

Photo by Gary Sleik, Hotfoot Photography

I believe the imperative of this moment is two-fold. On behalf of our planet and all its inhabitants, we must vote. For our own mental health and well-being, we must learn to dwell in uncertainty without shutting down.

Since the Buddha teaches us to sit with our suffering, some see his teachings as passive. I believe otherwise, since he taught that the way out of our suffering is to follow the eight-fold path, which includes appropriate speech and appropriate action. One of the core values the Buddha taught is compassion, which grows out of a deep understanding of our interconnectedness. Like trees in the forest, we appear separate, but beneath the surface, we are all nourished by the same sustaining web. This means that your well-being is inextricably related to mine. When you suffer, I suffer. When you thrive, I thrive.

Appropriate action, therefore, is action motivated by compassion. When we vote for the candidate who promotes connection and compassion rather than greed, hatred and delusion, we are taking appropriate action. When we do all we can to ensure that others too may raise their voices and vote for the health and welfare of all, we are also taking appropriate action. This is part of living the eight-fold path.

My older son, who’s on the autism spectrum, has taken a two-week leave from his program in Berkeley, California, to be home with us in Michigan for the elections and their immediate aftermath. I’m doing my best to navigate his anxiety alongside my own. One way I do this is to tell him that whatever happens, we’ll be okay. Do I know this? Of course not. We never know anything. But it’s unlikely that if things don’t go our way we’ll wake up dead the very next day. We’ve been in the resistance before. We’ll do it again if we have to. I dearly hope we won’t have to, but in the meanwhile, we must avoid what the Buddha calls shooting yourself with the second arrow—that is, creating additional suffering for ourselves by worrying ceaselessly over that which we have no control.

So please. Vote. Donate if you can. Phonebank, textbank, doorknock if you’re able to. Do what you can, and release what you can’t.

And when you’ve done these things, sit with your breath and know that this too is just a single moment, a drop in the fast-moving river of time, flowing out into the vast, unfathomable ocean, which began long before we arrived and will continue long after we’re gone.

Find your quiet center amidst the madness. But first, please vote.

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*The lyrics I referenced above are from the song The Human Experience (Reprise) in the musical The Fourth Messenger, by myself and Vienna Teng. You might find the song, as well as The Human Experience, comforting in this moment. You can find the whole album here.

If you enjoyed this piece, you might also enjoy Never the Less, my 2021 essay reflection on the earth’s resilience.

Writing is another powerful tool for navigating an uncertain world. If you feel drawn to explore your life in words, stay tuned for the next round of Off-Leash Writing Workshops, which I’ll announce soon.