A Deer Caught in the Headlines

How I'm Dealing With Shattered Assumptions

A few weeks ago, I caught myself more often than I’d like to admit relitigating and yearning for a romanticized past and attempting (and failing) to game the future. My husband Dan and I are in the midst of making decisions concerning major life issues and stances, set in motion years earlier than anticipated, by world events. These included, but were not limited to how and even where to live in accordance with our values and revised circumstances. Facing the present moment head-on was simply too painful. At the time I was like a deer caught in the headlines and I panicked. How does one pick up the pieces when one’s assumptions have been scattered at one’s feet?

In the post “It’s Not April Yet” where I captured this dilemma in real time, I was mired in grieving the losses, my question left dangling. Since then, through journaling, prayer, meditation, contemplative reading and conversation with like-hearted old souls here and elsewhere, I’m getting a glimpse of how to embrace reality, live with dismay and uncertainty, and still find meaning, purpose and hope.

This stretch of my journey began when I sought out a wise friend who is both firmly grounded in the present moment and fully cognizant of reality, including all the unknowns she’s facing and her lack of control over many circumstances. She knows what she wants but she holds it lightly and lets life flow. I want that for myself so I asked her the secret. She said “My plan A is in the process of probably being blown, but I have a plan B that is suitable to my soul.”

She told me of a tribe in a remote region of New Zealand where she had visited many years ago, studying their ways. The tribe was under threat of encroachment from hostile elements who would destroy them. Their Plan B required fierce faith and a broader horizon than my Plan A would have ever imagined possible.

They were preparing longboats to send the old women and children into the unknown. The men and younger women stayed behind, preparing to fight—to the death if necessary. The reason they sent the children away was because they represented the future. The old women were there to tell the stories. When the time was right, however many generations it took, the essence of the tribe would have been kept alive to take root in a new life either in the original homeland or in diaspora.

What’s my Plan B—the one that is suitable for my soul? I ended that post without an answer but knowing that listening for my Plan B is something I was being called to do. Then, out of the blue, while preparing to lead my monthly online reflection for Sage-ing, I happened upon a favorite quote from Robert Jingen Gunn. Life often asks more of us than we think we have to give: letting go of our illusions and rising to the occasion an honest engagement with reality asks of us. Is it worth it? Writes Gunn: Facing this question “takes us to the exact edge of life and death…whether to follow vitality with its attendant risks, struggles and promise, or whether to succumb to the death within life of unconsciousness and refuse to receive and take responsibility for that particular form of life that has been given.”

It’s harder here on the edge, where the risks and struggles of letting go are still so fresh and the promise of grace so out of your hands. And yet, grace comes, informing you that every moment of life is precious.

And so it is, I suddenly knew what my Plan B was—the new set of assumptions by which to live that would be suitable for my soul. It had been hidden in plain sight. It is simply this: to stay grounded in my truth that this is, often despite appearances, an ultimately friendly universe and share it with whomever will listen. In terms of what this looks like in practice, I’m letting go of everything that is beyond my control, facing the future with as much curiosity as I can muster, look for signs of life and opportunities for resistance and trusting that when the time comes, I’ll make the best possible decisions. This is as much plan I can aspire to count upon, for the time being—very lean on specifics—but by God’s grace, it turns out to be enough for now.

What’s your Plan B?