Emptiness, Part Two

When I awakened on the first morning of my shadow workshop weekend and remembered my night dreams, I had to laugh. In the first one, I was trying to get my clothes off, but they were stuck to my skin and resisted leaving. In the second dream, I was standing next to some building contractors, who were there to help me construct a new home. I guess that some aspect of my psyche was getting ready for the unfolding experiences that were to occur during the upcoming two days.

When I walked out to my car to drive to the retreat, I discovered that the vehicle would not start. (It ended up needing a new battery.) I watched my reaction to this event, knowing I would typically be bothered that this delay would cause me to be late for the training and for the first bonding experiences with the women. I was pleased to note that I was not overly upset, and was able to take it pretty much in stride. I then started making justifications for the car not starting, saying things to myself such as: It's meant to be; Maybe this is happening so that I will miss what might have been a bad accident on the freeway; This is giving me practice with being at peace with being late, etc. etc. I nodded; this type of belief system has been a key source of my deeper sense of equanimity over the years.

I breathed again, and decided to take another look at it. What if those justifications weren't true? What if the car didn't start because, because, well, because it just didn't? What if the not-starting just is? As simple as that. It just is. Nothing else. No reasons, no justifications, no tangled web of cause/effect, no nothing. Just being, just Is. How does that feel, how does that resonate inside of me?

It definitely makes me feel squirmy. On one hand, it gives me a feeling of deep peace: I don't have to understand anything, nothing has to fit together, everything can just be, and I can just let go it it all. But, on the other hand, my years of manufacturing all sorts of possible cosmic reasons for events happening gave me an illusion of knowledge and of a sense of control. It made me feel less terrified at the seeming randomness of life.

The thought of stepping away from that belief system scares the hell out of me.

I am glad that I don't have to find an either/or answer to this query. I don't have to know how and why the universe works. And I certainly don't have a choice as to the how and why; I only get to choose how I decide to dance with it. And, if I decide to do a certain dance one day, and another on the next, it doesn't seem to have the slightest impact on its intrinsic nature. This leads me to wonder: Will I ever have the guts to simply let it take the lead, and follow it down into all of its depths?