Thousands of years ago, our ancestors were wise enough to know that they couldn’t make things happen. The hunters who went out in the morning never knew if they would come back in the evening with food to feed their families. Perhaps they would find no prey, or the prey would escape, or one of their members might be killed during the hunt.
If they were to be successful, they had to have the gods on their side. But even here, they couldn’t make the gods look upon them with favor. They could only offer up supplications. After that, it was up to the gods to bless the hunt.
For those of us who live surrounded by smartphones, computers, high-speed trains, microwave ovens, five-star hotels, and fast food restaurants, those days of the unpredictable hunt are long gone. We are convinced that we don’t need assistance from beyond the natural world because we know how to make things happen.
We know how to make cars, washing machines, and hydro-electric power stations. We know how to make air-conditioners that will cool rooms in the summer. We know how to fly passengers from Buenos Aires to Bangkok and make sure their luggage awaits them upon arrival.
We even know how to put a person on the moon.
And if things are not going our way, rapper Kanye West gives us the solution: “I ain’t play the hand I was dealt, I changed my cards.”
We have gotten so used to this that we get frustrated when we don’t manage to make things happen. I switch on the light, but the room remains in the dark; I plan a holiday in the sun, but it rains every day; I arrange a meeting with a client, and she doesn’t show up; I buy an expensive TV, but it stops working after a week.
In reality, it’s an illusion to think we can make things happen. In 1986, just over a minute after blast-off, the space shuttle Challenger disintegrated in mid-air with the tragic loss of the lives of all seven astronauts aboard. Everything had been calculated down to the finest detail, except for the fact that extremely cold weather led to the malfunctioning of a seal in the joint of one of the solid rocket boosters. The builders of the Titanic never imagined it being sunk until it hit an iceberg.
This is not to deny our capacity to be rigorous in eliminating every possible risk factor when we want to make something happen. But the rigor we practice is never absolute.
And even if it were, unpredictability is the very stuff of reality. Things happen. I may have a Swiss watch which keeps time as perfectly as anyone could desire. But how could I have predicted that, while on an exotic holiday, a monkey would come in through an open window and steal it?
Why do we believe in this illusion? Perhaps it has something to do with our aversion to contemplating a world where uncertainty and unpredictability reign. How can I cope with not knowing whether my million dollars in the bank today will still be there tomorrow?
When I am focused on making my world be exactly as I want it to be, anything that disturbs it will always be unwanted. In other words, I can never really be at peace with a world where a nail on the road can puncture my tire, or a flight can be canceled because of bad weather.
But what if the world was on my side? What if unpredictability was a gift? What if chance events were governed by a mysterious law that always worked in my favor? Such a world might seem to be unimaginable. And yet, it’s the day-to-day experience of those who are linked by loving relationships. The very substance of love is its unpredictability, its complete resistance to any attempt to make it happen.
Every chance event becomes an opportunity to find new ways for love to be expressed. I fall on a slippery floor, and you take me to the hospital. Your flight is delayed, and I wait an extra hour at the airport to pick you up. Our child is born with a disability, and this doubles our love.
This is far from a stoical acceptance of whatever life throws at us. In Paul McCartney’s song, the words “Let it be” are the words of love of a mother standing by her son in his hour of darkness.
