People are wont to get upset. A shattered vase, a wrongly taken road, a daub of paint mistakenly applied viciously wrenches the chords of our hearts. Things, we are convinced, must proceed by our deftly sketched out plans, and when they do not, the fault lies with the disobedience of the forces of nature rather than the incompleteness of our excogitation. We like to presume that we know it all, and when the unforeseen and the unknown shows up, threatening our delusions of omniscience, our responses are similar to that of the ungodly toddler insisting that pneumonia begins with an ‘n’. This inability to accept the most trivial shifts from our predefined notions is what leads to our eventual frailty in the face of the real catastrophes that demand all we have in the way of fortitude and resourcefulness.
We often forget that accidents are not only inevitable but also essential. The earth was formed as the insignificant by-product of a staggering collision between gigantic nebulae. If the universe had been perfect and symmetry had reigned, it would all have been static and silent, and the cycle of human life would certainly never have begun. If a capricious wind hadn’t blown Columbus the wrong way, the Americas wouldn’t have existed on the global map for a lot longer. From penicillin to radioactivity, a wide range of discoveries have been caused solely by accident, and unusual interpretations of accidents.
We, however, view our lives as detached from this great cosmic picture. Whatever the prevailing view about the nature of the universe may be — geocentric, heliocentric, black hole-centric — to each of us it has always been self-centric. It is simply built into all of us, but when it blinkers our vision and prevents us from coping with jars, our approach calls for alteration.
There are two kinds of calm responses to startling situations. Representative of one is a prim old lady in an old English film about a motley group of people trapped in a sequestered guest house. When one of her fellow inmates suddenly gasps, splutters and drops dead in the middle of the living room, this stoical woman, supremely composed, remarks in a clipped accent, “How perfectly disgusting.” Most of us may find this kind of reactions hard to swallow, and ignoring the significance of a problem is hardly the right way of looking for a solution.
There could be a different line of attack altogether; one that allows us to face surprises undaunted while not hurting our egos. Why not take the tactic of fooling ourselves (and everyone else) that we are always aware and in control — by pretending that whatever befalls is really a part of our plan? So the daub of paint was intended, and look how it adds a fascinating element to the picture, so much better than the original idea. The shattered vase — I was going to replace it anyway. Besides, I wanted a slight shock.
It is futile to expect circumstances to adhere to our blueprints. It would probably help us be more resilient if we put ourselves in the habit of shifting our blueprints instead. We could learn to enjoy making it all up as we go along, for that is what we always end up doing anyway.