Finding Possibility in Uncertainty |

Who can say?

Source: Josh Bartok/ Used with Permission

By Lizabeth Roemer, Ph.D. and Josh Bartok

Our minds are very quick to judge whether a potential or apparent outcome is “good” or “bad.” We often put a lot of energy into trying to increase the chances that something will go the way we have in mind and decrease the possibility that something will go some other way. There are many contexts in which this does indeed seem helpful—for instance, when we plan a trip or try to solve some problem we’re facing. However, we can also get lost in our heads imagining potential negative outcomes that we may not have control over—and imagining those outcomes to be catastrophic and/or permanent. Doing this often leaves us feeling anxious and stuck, and interferes with our ability to fully engage in our lives.

Several years ago, at the height of the pandemic, Sue Orsillo and I wrote about some questions we can ask ourselves when we find our mind is anticipating negative outcomes. I’ve also written about how we can notice when we are bringing rigid narratives to a situation, rather than seeing it as it actually is. In today’s blog, we offer another way to work with our automatic judgments in order to increase our flexibility and ability to respond to a given context…even when we wish it were other than it is. Specifically, let us share the following ancient Taoist parable.

A farmer had a horse who was excellent at leading a plow, leading to successful crop-yields for the farmer. His neighbors regularly noted how lucky he was and how “good” it was that he had this horse.

To them, the farmer would respond, “Well, who can say?”

Then one day his horse ran off, and neighbors exclaimed that this was so awful, such terrible luck!

The farmer responded, “Well, who can say?”

When the horse returned with three wild horses in tow, all of whom could now be trained to plow fields, the neighbors praised his luck, envying what good fortune this was.

And he responded, “Well, who can say?”

When the farmer’s son fell from the horse he was breaking in and broke his own leg, the neighbors exclaimed that this was a grevious, unfortunate occurrence.

And the farmer responded, “Well, who can say?”

Later, a warlord came to each house to claim all able-bodied young men for an ill-fated conflict that would lead to many deaths—but, because of the farmer’s son’s broken leg, he did not claim the farmer’s son.

“How lucky for you!” said the neighbors… and the farmer responded, “Well, who can say?”

At each step, the neighbors certainly have good reasons for their judgments. And yet, the farmer knows that events always and inevitably continue to unfold, and even a seemingly negative event may lead to something positive and unimagined because the full story is never over, and nothing is ever final.

***

So what does this have to do with us? Being pleased or disappointed at specific outcomes or events is natural and human—and we do not have to imagine we should somehow be able to avoid desires or aversions for some events. The farmer, like us, may well have experienced the arising of distress when things didn’t go his way, but he knew this was only part of the full reality. For the farmer and for us, loss and pain occur and responses of grief, sadness, regret, and anger are part of fully experiencing our lives. And yet, this parable can be a gentle reminder that our stories are constantly unfolding and we never know for sure what the full effects of any single event will be.

When I (LR) first heard this story, my mind quickly jumped to asserting that I do know when an event is good or bad—obviously!—and I felt a desire to cling to that certainty in the rightness and unequivocal accuracy of my judgments. This is human and natural too—imagining we know things is comforting and realizing how much is uncertain and unknowable is unsettling. Uncertainty about threat is connected to anxiety. However, rather than creating a sense of certainty when, in reality, we truly do not know what the ultimate impact of any given circumstance or event will be, learning to tolerate (or even befriend!) uncertainty will expand our lives; imagining we must or even could control and prevent uncertainty will narrow them (e.g., Grupe & Nitschke, 2013).

We can notice the inevitable arising of preferences or judgments in anticipation or response to any event without taking them as the final word on the matter, or imagining we have reached the finale of any story. And we can even plan or problem-solve to try to increase the likelihood of outcomes that we appraise as desirable, while also resting in the reality that truly no story is ever over. This allows us to perhaps be a little more equanimous as we plan, and a little less panicked when things don’t go our way. We can humbly remember that we don’t have complete control over everything (or anything) that happens, and while uncertainty is uncomfortable, that doesn’t make it necessarily dangerous. Whatever unfolds, we can meet it and respond in ways that are consistent with our values. Again and again and again.

Although thinking we know things for sure can (in the short-term) potentially be calming and reassuring (even when what we think we know is a threat!), recognizing what we don’t know can actually open us up to fully experience life as it is in this moment.

When we are able to cultivate the farmer’s attitude of “Who can say?” we are able to more expansively respond to the current moment with flexibility and intention, which will help us to feel more satisfied with our lives. We will, undoubtedly experience pain and sorrow, and when we do we can also experience possibility and a sense of meaning.

Josh Bartok is a contemplative photographer and life coach. He is the author of two children’s books and several collections of inspiring quotes.