Finding a gentle, mindful "middle path" through the challenges of living with some uncertainty.
We've all heard the phrase in relation to our current pandemic that this is a "marathon not a sprint". I've fully embraced the concept except by now, I reckon I've definitely run one emotional marathon and I'm shattered. I am ready for some cheering as I cross the finishing line, a long hot bath, delicious comforting food and maybe a week to recover in a health spa. I would relish a break from this pandemic marathon, with all its on-going uncertainties and fluctuations. Surely by now, there could be an end date in sight when we can start making definite plans for events that aren't all on Zoom?
Luckily we have a Prime Minister with a crystal ball, who announced ten days ago that he thought it was likely that the coronavirus problem in the UK may well be over as early as November. He gave a confident prediction that by Christmas we could all be hugging and abandoning social distancing. It sounded convincing for a few moments until I remembered the vastly different views stated hours earlier by his key scientists. Was it possible that Boris Johnson had simply invented the date to cover up the truth, that none of us actually know for sure how the pandemic will unfold next?
Why would certain politicians keep making such confident assurances, not necessarily based on scientific facts, I wondered? And then it dawned on me. None of us like uncertainty. It can feel uncomfortable and bring up feelings of vulnerability. We tend to prefer predictable patterns and certainty, we like to know how things will develop. Although we know more about Covid-19 now, there are still many things that we don't know. So the linear part of the mind will gather up what it knows and then fill in the gaps with a hypothesis. Some people even suggest a process to help, where we "hope for the best yet prepare for the worst". Which means coming up with two incredibly divergent options for how things might look in the future.
The best outcome, possibly under the wishful thinking heading, is that case numbers will slowly decrease week by week until we are pretty much coronavirus free by the end of the year. We can look forward to New Zealand style celebrations without the need for constantly thinking about social distancing and risk assessing every situation. The opposite outcome is the worst-case scenario which includes second waves, months or even years more, possible winter lockdowns and endless social distancing. The worst-case scenario folk even cheerfully tell me that there will be more pandemics to come after this one, as I flee feeling tense and wondering why we can't just deal with this one first?
My tired brain has been trying to toggle between these two extremes, rather like trying to walk with one foot on each bank of a very wide river. Even writing this feels exhausting. No wonder the pandemic is so tiring because my linear mind is swinging between two opposites when trying to make a simple decision. I am still reading articles and studying data about the pandemic. I read with compassion, yet I am also trying to figure out what might happen next. And it is too much. It is literally hurting my head. During a gentle and mindful yoga class (on Zoom of course), with my head pounding from yet another headache, clarity came. I had to actually stop and write down this sentence that came to me before I forgot it.
Uncertainty isn't something I have to solve but something I need to accept.
You might already know this for sure, but this is obviously an area where I have "room for growth". Although I can be fairly wise and philosophical on my yoga mat, or after hours out in nature, I am also someone who loves familiarity and order. Nothing to me is more satisfying than to make a plan and complete it, whether this is a new healthy eating regime or a yoga course. I have a tendency to become blinkered even, in my pursuit of achieving a goal, a good trait to have when planning a term of work in my profession. But even in non-pandemic life, I can struggle with the idea of "going with the flow" or adapting plans when health or life events intervene. Somehow I need to bring my wiser self to this extra challenging pandemic experience and try out a gentler approach.
I imagine a more balanced "middle path", that meanders comfortably through the present moment as it is, without needing to grab hold of certainty. This middle path is both optimistic and cautious. It can happily celebrate all the improvements that are happening from much wearing face masks in shops (finally) to easing of social restrictions. It can also be heedful of advice from reliable scientists. It finds the delicate balance between being informed yet not being hooked on checking statistics too often. The middle path accepts that there are many things that we cannot predict or know at the moment as the pandemic is evolving with us. We are in a kind of gigantic human experiment learning as we go along through trial and error. The middle path can accept that zig-zags are part of the pandemic. One moment we are being encouraged to travel again and venture off to favourite holiday destinations such as Spain. This week, Spain is no longer a viable destination, for now.
The middle path conjures up a peaceful image of stepping stones placed evenly apart that traverse a wide but not deep river. The only way to reach the opposite bank is to carefully step onto the next stepping stone ahead, remaining balanced. The water swirling around in ripples and eddies represents the uncertainties, the fluid unfolding of this pandemic and all the emotions that travel with us. If we move slowly and mindfully, staying focused on our breath and feet, we will make it across. One stone at a time.
As I wrestle with making a few tentative plans for the autumn, I picture the stepping stones and imagine what would the next stone be that is just within reach? Could I manage that first small step and then pause and reflect again before taking another. This is not the normal decision making process that we did pre-pandemic. There are unknown factors in terms of infection levels and whether events are going to run or not. Whether we like it or not, we are all going to become more practised at the art of "going with the flow". And I get to regularly practice the difficult and uncomfortable process of accepting uncertainty. Psychotherapist Nancy Colier sums up the challenge of living in these times by embracing not knowing:
"Courage means being willing to not fill in the uncertainty with a negative or positive narrative, which we do to assuage our own discomfort with uncertainty. Now, more than ever, to live bravely is to live as conscious human beings, awake and present in our humble and vulnerable not knowing" Nancy Colier.
Luckily we have a Prime Minister with a crystal ball, who announced ten days ago that he thought it was likely that the coronavirus problem in the UK may well be over as early as November. He gave a confident prediction that by Christmas we could all be hugging and abandoning social distancing. It sounded convincing for a few moments until I remembered the vastly different views stated hours earlier by his key scientists. Was it possible that Boris Johnson had simply invented the date to cover up the truth, that none of us actually know for sure how the pandemic will unfold next?
The best outcome, possibly under the wishful thinking heading, is that case numbers will slowly decrease week by week until we are pretty much coronavirus free by the end of the year. We can look forward to New Zealand style celebrations without the need for constantly thinking about social distancing and risk assessing every situation. The opposite outcome is the worst-case scenario which includes second waves, months or even years more, possible winter lockdowns and endless social distancing. The worst-case scenario folk even cheerfully tell me that there will be more pandemics to come after this one, as I flee feeling tense and wondering why we can't just deal with this one first?
My tired brain has been trying to toggle between these two extremes, rather like trying to walk with one foot on each bank of a very wide river. Even writing this feels exhausting. No wonder the pandemic is so tiring because my linear mind is swinging between two opposites when trying to make a simple decision. I am still reading articles and studying data about the pandemic. I read with compassion, yet I am also trying to figure out what might happen next. And it is too much. It is literally hurting my head. During a gentle and mindful yoga class (on Zoom of course), with my head pounding from yet another headache, clarity came. I had to actually stop and write down this sentence that came to me before I forgot it.
Uncertainty isn't something I have to solve but something I need to accept.
You might already know this for sure, but this is obviously an area where I have "room for growth". Although I can be fairly wise and philosophical on my yoga mat, or after hours out in nature, I am also someone who loves familiarity and order. Nothing to me is more satisfying than to make a plan and complete it, whether this is a new healthy eating regime or a yoga course. I have a tendency to become blinkered even, in my pursuit of achieving a goal, a good trait to have when planning a term of work in my profession. But even in non-pandemic life, I can struggle with the idea of "going with the flow" or adapting plans when health or life events intervene. Somehow I need to bring my wiser self to this extra challenging pandemic experience and try out a gentler approach.
I imagine a more balanced "middle path", that meanders comfortably through the present moment as it is, without needing to grab hold of certainty. This middle path is both optimistic and cautious. It can happily celebrate all the improvements that are happening from much wearing face masks in shops (finally) to easing of social restrictions. It can also be heedful of advice from reliable scientists. It finds the delicate balance between being informed yet not being hooked on checking statistics too often. The middle path accepts that there are many things that we cannot predict or know at the moment as the pandemic is evolving with us. We are in a kind of gigantic human experiment learning as we go along through trial and error. The middle path can accept that zig-zags are part of the pandemic. One moment we are being encouraged to travel again and venture off to favourite holiday destinations such as Spain. This week, Spain is no longer a viable destination, for now.
The middle path conjures up a peaceful image of stepping stones placed evenly apart that traverse a wide but not deep river. The only way to reach the opposite bank is to carefully step onto the next stepping stone ahead, remaining balanced. The water swirling around in ripples and eddies represents the uncertainties, the fluid unfolding of this pandemic and all the emotions that travel with us. If we move slowly and mindfully, staying focused on our breath and feet, we will make it across. One stone at a time.
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| A friend mindfully taking the next step. |
"Courage means being willing to not fill in the uncertainty with a negative or positive narrative, which we do to assuage our own discomfort with uncertainty. Now, more than ever, to live bravely is to live as conscious human beings, awake and present in our humble and vulnerable not knowing" Nancy Colier.
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