Today, I woke up with a strange feeling of insecurity that I could not identify or relate to anything specific that might have triggered it. When I saw my dog sleeping in front of the fireplace, I thought about how quiet life is for him. Then he woke up and I asked him: “Alfy, how do you face uncertainty?” Alfy looked at me with a little compassion, turned around, and went behind a piece of furniture. He then emerged with a bone that I had brought him a month ago and put it in front of my feet. He turned again and threw himself back in front of the heat of the fire and fell asleep.
I stared at the bone for a long time, trying to understand what it meant. But the bone doesn’t eliminate uncertainty, does it? No, it doesn’t eliminate it, but maybe I’m focusing on something that isn’t there. The bone is still there, almost looking at me and expecting something from me.
Alfy brought it to me and went back to sleep. That’s what I have to pay attention to: leaving the bone and going back to sleep. If I think about it, life is a permanent change; therefore, it’s natural that we live in uncertainty, whether we realize it or not. When things go as one expects, that is, when what comes matches my expectations, then, of course, everything goes well, and I think I am on safe ground. The uncertainty disappears, and I don’t even think about it. But the challenge arises when that “I don’t know what’s going to happen” restlessness comes up in me. In the end, at least I do not know what will happen from one moment to the next, and that is certainty.
Returning to Alfy’s message, “I’m going to sleep peacefully,” it seems to me equivalent to “what do I get from anticipating what is going to happen?” Sure, we’re not talking about how I didn’t pay the electricity bill and then go to sleep. We are discussing things I have no control over. I have no idea when I will die; what I do know is that I am going to die because that is the human condition. I bet Alfy doesn’t ask that question, I think, as I watch his tummy rise and fall with the rhythm of his calm breathing.
Since I am reflecting, I try to imagine what life would be like without uncertainty. Perhaps I would know exactly what is going to happen at every moment. It would always remain within the realm of the known. Would there be a possibility of learning? I doubt it. And on a path of unfolding where one willingly ventures into the unknown, curious to understand what it means to be alive, uncertainty presents opportunities.
So, it is not the bone that is the issue, but the attitude to relax while simultaneously observing what is happening in me and around me. Of course, uncertainty generates unease and fear. Well, I do not know if what is coming will be something negative; maybe it is something positive that I had not even imagined. I remain open to the unknown with confidence.
Confidence in myself, first of all, means that I count on myself to face the unknown. I have confidence in my potential for unfolding and the expansion of my consciousness. I am also confident that I possess the tools to respond to what life presents me at every moment: meditation, supporting those who walk with me, reflecting on my day retrospectively, and getting to know myself better.
The feeling of insecurity I woke up with has vanished. I can place the bone back behind the furniture where Alfy brought it and relax while enjoying the warmth of the fire. Thank you, Alfy.
