Wednesday, October 4, 2023
Sometimes we don’t realize how futile our actions are. When you worry and strain, you are being a backseat driver. All of that stewing is nothing more than a plastic steering wheel and some fake pedals in the backseat. Admit to your futility! You’re on the passenger’s side and you push down on the floorboard when you see a red light. You don’t trust your driver. You’re in a plane, and it goes down the runway too far. Then you start pulling up on your armrests to “lift” it off the ground. As if you’re the captain!
Why do we do all of these funny little things? We think we’re somebody. We do these things because they are reactions of the unconscious mind, which doesn’t really know that the universe is perfectly capable of taking care of itself. That truth is in you, and working through you. The reactive brain is trying to protect you, but more than naught, it’s just in the way. There is no danger, once you figure this all out. You’re OK in the backseat. That’s the only place you’ll ever be. People who think they’re driving are not in on the joke.
You’re no more in control than the person in the plane pulling up on their arm rests. You’re not “helping” the doctor operate on your loved one when you pace in the waiting room and bite your nails. Seems like all we can do is trust. I don’t know if that’s good news, but it is certainly something worth contemplating in that you can release the pretense of “helping” by straining and stressing. Stop trying to get the plane off the ground; stop mashing on the floorboard; and stop getting your insides all twisted up about tomorrow. Remember, it’s futility. If you crash, you crash. It only appears like you’re driving, now get out of your own way and relax.