The way of Instability

A few weeks ago I wrote four words on a sheet of typing paper and taped it to the front of my refrigerator: "All structures are unstable."

I had come across that simple statement in physicist Frank Wilczek's book, A Beautiful Question, and it perfectly exemplified what I needed at that moment. I was upset that the trees in front of my condo had been trimmed and that some of the privacy they had afforded was now missing. But more than that, I had been angry about it, and the words reminded me that all things are unstable and I would be better off if I could remember that.

Of course what a physicist says about reality and what I think about it are two very different things, but there is no doubt that whether we're talking quantum fields, or the trees off my deck, or the Dow Jones, or even my own body, it's all unstable, all susceptible to inner and outer forces that may bring it crashing down at any moment. (The Cascadia fault comes to mind.)

The paper remains in place to proclaim its message and I read it aloud at least once a day. It's comforting to be reminded that change is indeed constant and unavoidable, that no matter how we feel about the problems of today, tomorrow they will be different.

To resist change is to resist life, and our efforts to build perfect safety and stability around us are doomed to failure; maybe not soon but ultimately. Because all things are unstable. That same resistance keeps us fearful, which in turn prevents us spreading our wings or taking a chance on a dream.

We have built a world for ourselves in which fear predominates. Fear of change, death, loss, poverty; fear of the other. And fear's power has narrowed our vision, blocking our connection with one another, with nature and the earth itself.

And we are all complicit. The world's social, political, and financial structures were not created by gods. We built them over time, through ages of thinking and believing; through wars and death and repentance and new beginnings. Ages and ages of trying to be better, and yet here we are, still afraid, teetering in unstable structures.

But when I acknowledge and accept that fact I feel a kind of freedom. I see that it's not my job to hold the world together. It's my job to be the best person I can be on this day, in this moment. Because only this moment is real. I remind myself, again, that this now is a gift. I will go out into the sunshine and enjoy it.