One thing most of us can be certain of is that many situations in the course of our lives will bring about feelings of uncertainty, and in many cases those feelings will be uncomfortable. My favorite dictionary defines uncertainty as “the state of being uncertain,” which in turn has various shades of meaning, including “not known precisely, not fixed; not precisely determined, established, or decided; not to be depended on, unreliable; liable to variation, changeable.”
Last Sunday the Palpung-Richmond Buddhist sangha engaged in an interactive dharma workshop defining, discussing, and practicing with uncertainty. It turns out that uncertainty isn’t always unpleasant, and also that, however it makes us feel, it has a very significant upside!
While uncertainty often gives rise to anxiety, fear, and other unpleasant emotions, such as when a job or relationship hangs in the balance, or we’re awaiting medical news, facing a difficult decision or conversation, or thinking about climate change or other global issues; the flip side is that we also sometimes seek uncertainty out as a pleasure: when we’re anticipating a birthday or other special occasion, or reading a book to find out what happens in the end, or if we enjoy jump scares. What feelings arise for us when we look up at the night sky with its stars, galaxies, and infinite space?
Feelings aside, if there’s an upside to uncertainy, what might it be? If we go back to the dictionary, I think the definition of uncertainty sounds a lot like the true nature of reality as our teachers describe it: the empty or open aspect of the underlying nature of everything, including ourselves; that while the vividness of our experience is undeniable (relative reality), we can never fully know or define or pinpoint it (ultimate reality). I often introduce the idea of emptiness or openness in this way: “No situation is limited to being the way I perceive it.”
Benjamin Franklin famously said, “Nothing is certain except death and taxes.” The great Kagyu lama Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche told his students, “Chaos should be regarded as very good news!” He also told a joke: “The bad news is, you’re falling through the air, nothing to hang onto, no parachute. The good news is, there’s no ground.” Scottish Dzogchen teacher James Low asks the question: “How could we build certainty on things which are ever-changing?”
This basic uncertainty and lack of solid ground often manifests in our feeling world as unease, worry, and anxiety; but what if, as in Trungpa Rinpoche’s freefall analogy, we could also begin to explore a sense of freedom within uncertainty, recognize it as a field of potential in which nothing is yet manifest and everything is still possible? What if we could approach situations of uncertainty with curiosity instead of fear, and use them as doorways into deeper understanding of and comfort with the underlying impermanence and emptiness of everything we think we know?
Unresolved situations may still be painful, and they can still have an outcome we don’t want. But these two feelings of pain and openness can co-exist, and In the next post I’ll share some ideas we discussed for cultivating okayness with uncertainty on and off the cushion.
There’s an ancient story credited to Taoism and Zen about a farmer who lost his horse. If you’re not familiar with it, here’s one of many versions you can find online.
Meanwhile, as the great eighth-century Indian Buddhist teacher Shantideva advised us in The Bodhisattva’s Way of Life (my translation below, there are many others):
If there is a remedy, Why any anxiety? If the problem can’t be fixed, Where is worry’s benefit?
