I was driving the other day with my list of things to do, places to be, and it hit me. I was alone. Well, yes. I was by myself in the car. What I’m talking about, though, is that feeling of being really, totally alone—to figure out what I’m doing in this world.
The deal is, I don’t believe that, that it’s all up to me. What I believe is that the World is here to help. The World, in this case, may be called “God, Universe, Spirit” or any number of things which mean a force or presence greater than my own. I call it “The Mystery.” But then I forget it’s here.
As a child, I had a simple belief in a personal God, a superior being who was there to love and guide. But events in my youth—primarily the assassinations of my heroes—blew that apart and for years I refused to consider a bigger power. I turned my back on a belief in anything except other people and Nature, and often felt alone.
It’s so hard to feel really alone. It’s weighty and sad and sometimes scary. It’s that feeling you get when you wake up in the night and realize just how minuscule you are, we are, how vulnerable. It can breed a desperateness for connection, making decisions about others not always very helpful. It’s nerve-wracking because I might make a mistake.
I came to realize that when my anxiety increases, my feeling of aloneness increases. As I feel pressure to make a big decision or accomplish important tasks, I get tunnel vision. “That’s the way to do that” or “This is the right decision” automatically closes other avenues. I’m not putting up roadblocks to other ideas, it just happens—-if I forget The Mystery, if I forget I’m not alone.
What I want is to remain aware of The Mystery as my anxiety increases so my aloneness feelings decrease. I want the sense that “things will be all right” or at least that “things will happen regardless of my engineering efforts.” Paradoxically, the latter is good news.
I feel the strange comfort that comes from believing that there is a greater force at work particularly when I give up. When I’ve tried everything to maneuver to a desired end and it just isn’t happening, I sigh and say, I’ll just have to see what happens. Then I remember I’m not alone. The Mystery is still there, ready to accompany me on my next adventure.
My job is to find ways to keep the knowledge of The Mystery in front of me. A reminder hooked to my cup of tea in the mornings. A reminder when I start my car. Anchors to daily activities.
The Mystery requires no allegiance, makes no judgments and becomes visible with awareness and acknowledgment on my part. It pulls no strings but instead, like a firefly, lights many ways. I want to pay attention. We are not alone.