Maybe

The fifth of a short (?) series on the EU Referendum

Saturday 25th, still opening to waves of grief and shock I got to have a Skype inquiry with a friend in the East of England.  Tracking the sensations in my body surfaced imprints of earlier discontinuities in my life.  Times when I felt at the mercy of others, when I felt powerless, at the effect of the limitations of their consciousness, maturity, wisdom; unable to control events or to even influence them.  The armouring around my heart, the defences of anger and blame, gave way to full blown grief at our collective immaturity.  

I saw that the world and its events are representations of our combined awareness, no more, no less. We have exactly the politicians and the politics we deserve.  They represent all that is unconscious in us - personally, locally, globally.  I felt more than saw, the indestructible innocence at the heart of each and every one of us.  Every single one of us doing the best we can according to our experience, understanding, capacity.  

Once I had felt, acknowledged, named the truth of this innocence welling up from belly to heart I could breath more freely, rest in my own innocence.  See that my reactions to the referendum result were coloured by the belief that ‘bad things happen’ after sudden shocks.      

Now there was room for something else, the recognition that this fear was attached to the unknown itself.  To the abyss of not-knowing at the heart of existence, of the mystery of life unfolding.  Out of that came something like faith or trust - a hunch more than a strong knowing - that despite my reactions, ‘things were unfolding as they should.’   A calmness and curiosity remain, with the feel of this tale.

“One day the horse of an old farmer ran away.
Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit.
“Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses.
“How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg.
The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

“Maybe” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army.
Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by.
The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.


“Maybe” said the farmer.”