The uncertainty about when we’ll be able to stop hiding from Covid-19 and move freely about the world again has given me the feeling I often get near the end of long retreats: ambivalence. As much as returning to ‘normal’ life appeals to me, it feels a little alien to ponder during the timelessness and relative tranquility of a retreat.
After months of staying at or very close to home, it’s not just me that’s changed; so has the world. I can only wonder what it will be like when we emerge from our homes like baby sea turtles digging themselves out of the sand. For how long will we have to dash for the sea amid a horde of predators? Will there be even greater economic hardships, shortages and ferocious competition? Or will we have so enjoyed clean air and water, quiet and rest that we collectively choose a very different way of being? Will I, and you?
Quite simply, no one knows. That’s a persistent characteristic of the future. It’s the pebble in the shoe of impermanence. Relentless, the future is always approaching and bringing with it new and unpredictable realities. Most humans seem to have an inborn aversion to not knowing what’s going to happen. The old English law which many countries inherited sought to protect ‘reasonable expectations.’ But it’s those expectations that trip us up when they’re not met, causing emotional suffering. Probably death is so dreaded because no one knows what to expect after it happens – as if we know what will happen next week.
There’s really nothing to do about the future but accept and investigate it. The future will come no matter what we do; we can’t stop the waves. But we can learn to surf. And the vast majority of the time we do. For such an anxious species, we’re amazingly resilient. Looking back on the Great Generation, it’s astonishing what people went through: two horrific world wars with a devastating flu in between. The 14th century was even worse than that, like hell on earth, with repeated plagues like the Black Death, thinning the population so much it transformed Europe’s economy from feudalism.
I don’t mean to imply at all that the future will always be good according to our current values. Major changes tend to transform our modes of thinking as we search for ways to carry on. Fear (and hope) is just our clinging to current ideas of what we’ll want. The mind is capable of letting go of its demands so it can find the best response to what is true now. We can do that either the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to us.
Many meditators are using their relaxed schedules now to take more mindfulness breaks of various forms. It helps us cope with the strangeness of Now. It also prepares the mind to do the same with the next Now still to come, and the many after that. By consciously using our practice this way, we learn to let go of our fear and meet the future.