Uncertainty Springs Eternal 🌸

Even in uncertain times spring shows up. Cherry blossoms open to the sun, green shoots rise up from the dark earth, birdsong fills the air. Nature reminds us that life is change. Even in uncertain times.

And we are living them, aren’t we? We all feel it, globally and personally. And we’re all trained to do something about our feelings, even if we don’t know what that doing should be. But we also know that acting impulsively often has unwelcome consequences—an angry email sent too soon is regretted later, a piece of writing we don’t like is shredded or burned before its potential is revealed. A hot emotion craves release yet often leaves destruction its wake. That old advice to take a deep breath and count to ten? It’s good. Especially in uncertain times.

With all the chaos streaming around us, let’s make a conscious decision to not add to it. That takes some work. We need to be extra vigilante about recognizing our triggers and have constructive ways to deal with them; we need to be more aware that others feel just like us, maybe worse, and we must tolerate that and, on our good days, do something positive to uplift others; we also need to make extra room for what nourishes and sustains us personally. It’s not a time to go without good thoughts, words, and deeds. The extra effort will pay off in the moment and later.

So don’t give in to fear; expand courage. Don’t succumb to hate; rise to love and tolerance. Don’t surrender to despair; stand with possibility and vision.

As a writer you have the tools to do this at your fingertips— you can take the coldness of your despair and the heat of your rage to the page. Your hands can be channels of insight rather than fists of might. Don’t they say the pen is mightier than the sword? Ideas last longer than bruises.

I don’t mean to sound Pollyannaish here. Though I do believe writing is powerful action—words galvanize people to do both good and ill—other actions are no doubt required now too—voting, marching, engaging in difficult conversations with people who think differently (and consider reviewing Timothy Snyder's Twenty Lessons from On Tyranny).

Remember that you, as a writer, are trained to deal with uncertainty and chaos thanks to your practice of repeatedly facing the blank page. What does the blank page teach us? That the story isn’t fully written yet. In its blankness lies possibility, if we have the vision for it. Don’t sacrifice that vision to the storms of chaos. Preserve it, like the stillness in the eye of a storm. Purge your inner chaos onto the page—burn or shred that one if you want—and let the uncertainty of the times trigger not only fear, anger, and despair but also wisdom, love, vision, and tolerance.

The story’s still being written. Which part are you writing?

"The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next." 

~ Ursula K. LeGuin ~

“For the times they are a-changin'.”

~ Bob Dylan ~

P.S. The writings and creations of others can uplift, soothe, and strengthen in these times. Two Buddhist-themed books I turn to: Pema Chodron’s, Comfortable with Uncertainty and The Wisdom of Insecurity, by Alan Watts. I also like to reread Paul Coelho’s, The Alchemist, and Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse now and again.

And just last week I watched the Oscar-winning animated feature, Flow, by Latvian director, Gints Zilbalodis. See this film! The literal wordlessness of it was wonderfully calming. Another, older favourite Oscar-winning animated feature is Hayao Miyazaki’s, Spirited Away—surreal, mystical, and heartfelt. Not wordless but wonderfully weird. (Japanese with English dubbing.)