Contingency
1 June 2008
Philadelphia, PA
Contingency is different from uncertainty and ambiguity... even if at times it may feel so similar as to be almost indistinguishable.
This morning as I was sitting trying to meditate, making an effort to have it all be effortless, working at not working, I could feel the doubts and fears reemerge. What if I don't find that new job before the money runs out? What if my age really is a factor? What if those old stories of feeling trapped and frozen in a cold, dark room grip me once again, and replace the sense of spaciousness that John Tarrant speaks of, or the "breathing room" that Thich Nhat Hahn talks about? What if...?
And then suddenly I was not working so hard, and the fears subsided for a time.
The difference now, though, seems to be my awareness of just how ephemeral these contingent thoughts and feelings are. Just how ephemeral this small "self" is. Noticing how quickly they morph into other thoughts was as powerful as noticing how tightly they can grip me in any moment when I am asleep (which happens to be most of the time!).
Contingent is an apt word here. From tangere, which means "to touch". These thoughts and feelings are contingent on a (little) self, which is contingent on a (Big:-) Self, that is contingent on a Soul or Spirit, that is contingent upon... But if I say: These thoughts and feelings touch the Self for a moment, and the Self touches the Soul, and on and on, then each one seems to exist for, or in, only the moment when the touching occurs.
Even this word, touch, calls me deeper into the question of contingency. It is an old Middle English word, toche. There is a lovely artifact to this word from the Old French - toucher, which means "to set fire". There is an igniting quality to a touch, an instantaneous combustion not easily extinguished once it happens.
So, carrying this further and deeper, I can now hold the possibility that thoughts and feelings ignite the self, and the self sets fire to the Self, which sets the Soul ablaze... It is as if each moment, when I am awake to any extent anyway, is a kind of funeral pyre comprised either of humble flickering embers, or dramatic engulfing flames. And out of that fire, in the way that the Giant Redwoods are born, a new little self and Big Self, Soul and Spirit are reborn along with the entire entourage of thoughts, feelings and sensations that seem so real, so permanent.
That seem so devoid of contingency.