The Uncertainty Principle
Cue existential crisis.
Uncertainty. The Unknown. Fear’s unofficial hypeman.
The unknown that surrounds our safe little bubble of certainty is much like the way the universe engulfs our own little planet, orbiting within our own little solar system, nestled in our own little galaxy.
Beyond that, this type of darkness has no known borders to the human mind. A seemingly everlasting sea of black.
That’s one of the bigger mysteries of this pandemic, other than the obvious “how do we control this virus?” kind of mystery, the mystery of “What’s next?”
In addition to all of the other calamities we as a collective are grappling with, the pandemic has peeled back the thick, distracting layers of life, revealing intimidating existential conundrums: “What is the meaning of life? What is my purpose here? What will happen to me? Who am I???”
My favorite –or, at least my most accessible distractions—are of the screen-based variety. Rather than stew in an existential soup of dread, I travel through portals to other worlds, other realities where uncertainty is never really an issue. The act of scrolling or binge-watching is predictable in and of itself: I know there will be endless feeds of content my dopamine receptors can feast on. Social media platforms include boundaries in the form of 1”x1” squares in organized grids. Simple, easy to navigate, bite-sized bits of virtual crack. TV shows and movies offer predictable, pseudo-life trajectories with a beginning, middle and end. Certainty is built into these formats. Comfort ensues.
But after finishing the 3rd season of The Flash, I’m concerned for my brain cells, as in, How many are left? There comes a point where my desire to preserve my cognitive functioning (and my eyeballs) outweighs my desire to avoid discomfort. And, as I’m sure many of you know, prolonged screentime (let’s not forget Zoom meetings!) just…hurts.
And therein lies the rub: if we can’t escape through these tried-and-true methods of avoidance (including substance use/abuse, internet shopping sprees, and over-consumption of banana bread) without developing some serious problems, what’s left?
The medicine for this does not have to be complicated. In fact, it’s best if it weren’t. We are already struggling to adjust and wrap our minds around this new way of life that we don’t need extra weight to burden our spirits.
The medicine for uncertainty…is certainty.
For survival purposes, our minds naturally try and predict outcomes for potentially life-threatening situations, whether they be physical, mental or emotional threats. It becomes maladaptive when preparation turns into rumination, finding yourself drowning in a rabbit-hole of what-ifs and catastrophic fantasies. Ironically, by trying to control our destinies, we end up losing control. We have left the comfortable and safe atmosphere of our planet and are now spiraling into the abyss of space. The remedy to this is often coming back down to Earth.
The Abyss of Uncertainty
When my aunt passed into the ancestor realm several years ago, it shook my family to its core from the grief that ensued. She had gone into remission for several years after her first round of treatments, and even though we knew that the illness could return, this knowledge still couldn’t cushion the blow for my large family unit that highly valued family connection and unity. Several years later, it came roaring back, terminally this time.
This wasn’t by any means the first brush with death our family has faced, but as I grew older and began to process mortality differently than I had when I was younger, my own fragile existence on this planet suddenly took center-stage. After a quick assessment of my finances, a request for time-off from work, and a generous assist from an uncle who worked for the airlines, I found myself on a solo budget-trip to Paris. I think we had the funeral barely 2 months earlier.
When I touched down at Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport, I was surprised to be greeted not by a warm Spring breeze as one might expect in March, but by snow and freezing temperatures. I learned quickly that language was going to be an interesting challenge as I barely knew a lick of French. The shuttle dropped me off at my Air BnB in what I believe was the 10th arrondissement (district) in the city. My host was a young hipster gentleman who made me hot tea and conversed with me in English before heading off to work at a local bookstore.
We didn’t see each other much after that as I spent most of my time exploring the city. I bought a book of train tickets to last me the entire trip. I visited churches, parks and museums. Because of my modest budget, I consumed baguettes every day , indulging in one “fancy” meal on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. Even though it’s a huge tourist spot, I was charmed by the Latin Quarter where I shopped at the famed Shakespeare and Company Bookstore. I was even more amazed by the crepe shop where I was served by an older Asian auntie who was watching her TV show in Mandarin and taking my order in French. Probably equally amazed was the French street artist who marveled at me, an Asian woman, who spoke English with an American accent. I should mention that the district I was staying in was extremely diverse with Black and Brown people everywhere. I actually blended in, that is, until I opened my mouth to speak.
One day, my adventures led me to a Catholic church, the Saint-Étienne-du-Mont. I ventured inside and came upon a collection of statues depicting a scene of men and women surrounding another man who was lying on his back, despondent, with his ankles crossed. It was so long ago that I can’t remember what the scene was actually about, but it reminded me of death.1 It was in that moment that the heaviness of loss and existential dread hit me again and I started to sob.
Earth-Landing
Was Paris a distraction? An impulsive reaction meant to help me escape the unknown about what fate has in store for me? Yes, and very much yes. In this subconscious attempt to cope with the Abyss of Uncertainty, I flew off to a different time zone in a country that spoke a language I did not know how to speak. Alone. This is by no means a suggestion to go flying across the globe, especially during a pandemic. Rather, this is an example of how, in a misguided attempt to ensure a future with no regrets, I discovered a different kind of medicine.
Because everything felt so new to me, I was wholly aware of myself and my surroundings. My senses offered me guidance in a way that they hadn’t shown up for me in a very long time. The sound of hail that pelted our umbrellas outside the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur church overlooking the city. The sweet fragrance that tickled my taste buds with that first luscious bite of a strawberry macaron. The quirky displays of plants, taxidermy, antique appliances and other oddities at the African breakfast buffet in a neighboring district. As a woman, traveling alone made me check in constantly with myself. Did I feel safe talking to this person on the train? What did it mean when my heart started beating a little faster? I experienced excitement, awe and disappointment (the Mona Lisa is much smaller than I thought it would be). When the shuttle failed to show up to take me to the airport on my last morning there, the anxiety spike jump-started my problem-solving instincts. My body was a fine-tuned sensory instrument, experiencing, feeling, being. My mind was no longer swimming in the unknown. Instead, I was drinking in the present moment.
Grounded
My last day in Paris, I managed to find my way to an internet café where I clumsily navigated their keyboards (non-QWERTY) to email the shuttle company. After a short time of radio silence and me frantically checking my phone to see how close I was getting to missing my flight, I hailed a cab and started my journey home.
What is home? I think back to that circle of certainty, a radiating ball of energy in my heart center, right in the middle of my chest. Nestled comfortably within are layers of certainty, starting with the outer layer representing aspects of my life that I feel the least certain about. This is where my most treasured and loving relationships reside. The farther inward I travel, the more the layers are centered around what’s within my control and the more certain I actually feel.
Plot twist! The most thing I am sure about is uncertainty itself. This oxymoron invokes another anxiety-provoking concept: acceptance. On this journey, finding acceptance for what-is and what-isn’t has lifted quite a burden off my shoulders. I carry much less pressure to control life’s outcomes, leaving me space and energy to pursue things, relationships, interests I actually love.
The Present Moment is a close second when it comes to things I am certain about. While Paris was indeed an exercise in being present, my most profound journeys on grounding myself in the Now took place in my bedroom with a floor pillow, some meditation music and my journal. It took me a year of daily meditation, affirmations, intentions and gratitude practice to center myself, but the practice is life-long. When the dreaded unknown rears its head, I drop into a mindfulness practice, whether it’s meditation or observing my surroundings through my 5 senses the way I did while I was in Paris. When I am in a relatively safe space, these practices are a beautiful reminder that in this moment, I am in control of myself, the decisions I make, my body and my breath. I give myself permission to stay here as long as I need to.3
In this time and space, my pocketbook can’t always support my escapist fantasies, nor should it have to. Life holds meaning when for me when I’m living all of it, not chasing desperately after something that has no guarantee. This has been true both before and during (and I’m sure after) the pandemic. Thankfully, we can always travel inward for this medicine. I’m certain of it.
1 I researched that statue and found that the scene was depicting the entombment of Christ, appropriately titled The Entombment.
2 As you can see, I like making graphs. But mostly for the artistic and aesthetic value I get from it. Plus it’s easier to read and understand. In reality, my journey and concepts look more like this:
The Good Place. Look it up. You’re welcome.
3 These methods for grounding and the psychotherapy in which I provide guidance for them go beyond the scope of this journal entry. Perhaps another time.
If you are enjoying this virtual exploration, I invite you to
