Security is an illusion, a magical somewhere-land existing in a nowhere-time. We hop around like frogs in a pond from one sinking lily pad to the next, “Now I’ve got it. Here is the solid ground I’ve longed for. I’m safe now.” All the while the shaky ground dipping lower and lower until we are forced to jump to another temporary landing pad. “This time I’m sure I’ve got it.” On and on and on.
The intricate weaving of time and space and our soul’s endless struggle for relevance makes us believe we are impermanent. We believe in our collective death too much. We see expiration dates where there are none. We convince ourselves if we can just get a good job with health insurance and covered parking, then we’d be safe. If we just keep our mates loving us and never give them any reason to question that love, we can relax. If we buy a house and make tax payments and cultivate our land we will have something to pass on to the next generation. We actually believe we can provide permanence somehow in the doing and the accumulating, all the while rejecting our own infinite divinity. We shrug it off and say, “But what if I’m wrong? What if this is all there is?” It feels good to believe in our eternal peace so we deny it. We wonder who we are to feel good. What did I do to deserve happiness?
At no time is the illusion of security more clear than during upheaval. In the midst of chaos we scream and rage, “I’ve done everything right! Why is this happening?” What is THIS? This is the realness, not the illusion. This is life and death and birth and rebirth which are always happening. It never stops. Only we stop. We stop looking at it, hoping it will go away, like a child hiding under the covers from the dark unknowns. If we can’t see it, it can’t hurt us. We know at the most intimate level of our being what is real. The promiscuity of security does not escape us in our deepest wells of knowledge.
We know these truths, yet we struggle to maintain the illusion. We get jobs and forge friendships and plant trees and we say what good we are doing. We schedule oil changes and plan birthday parties and mend fences. Why? Because temporary or not, we can’t not do the doing. A car needs maintenance. Relationships take loving care to work. These are important aspects of our human experience. Why would we deny what we came here to experience? In the end it’s not the illusion of security that is so destructive, but rather our belief in it. We give it too much power and it lords this power with maniacal accuracy. “You better behave or I’ll rip the floor right out under your feet!” Security: what a bully.
How do you best a bully? By taking away the power, of course. Burn it all to the ground yourself. Don’t wait for the illusion to shatter, leaving you holding the bag. Embrace the unknowns, the can’t-yet-sees and the craziest crazy ideas you can imagine. That’s where life is really happening. In the chaos of “what is” we are given every opportunity to begin again. In the middle of all the fear about the future is a bottomless well of peace which cannot be deterred or unhinged. That is our real truth, and we don’t have to do anything to earn it. No matter how many times the rug is pulled from under our feet or the other shoe drops, we are whole, infinite and endless. At least until the next mortgage is due.