“Here, Now — What’s the Meaning of All This?”

We really must strenuously object…

In the tumult of these times, I confess I sometimes retreat into daydreams, scenarios where I cast myself in the role of imaginary characters better able to cope. Lately, as I look at a world that defies logic and good sense, I sometimes find myself channeling some idealized 19th-century aristocrat who has stumbled upon an ill-mannered, madcap scene. I draw myself up to my full height of 5′ 5″, look haughtily down my nose, and demand an explanation.

I ask, coldly and sternly, “WHAT is the meaning of All This?”

“We certainly were not consulted,” I continue, avoiding even in my distress the vulgar first person singular. “And we certainly do not approve.”

The question is more than rhetorical.

Many of us have spent significant time exploring the meaning of our own lives. We seek self-knowledge through religion, spirituality, language, psychology, and quizzes in women’s magazines. Like so many in my cohort, with the luxuries of first world amenities and opportunities at hand, I’ve been able to explore such questions thoroughly and sincerely: “Who am I really? How can I learn to love and accept myself? How can I achieve inner peace and spiritual growth? And why can’t I remember that guy’s name who wrote that book on finding enlightenment through basketweaving?”

And I still believe such questions and self-exploration to be necessary and righteous.

But now, even though I have not yet settled those questions, I know I must also look outward and ask the complementary question.

What’s the meaning of All This?

You know — All THIS:

And THIS:

And THIS:

I don’t know what “All This” means.

It may be true that the world is actually becoming less dangerous or difficult than it always has been. But that’s an intellectual position that does little to ease my anxiety about today’s real-life, present-day chaos. Today, it seems, we are seeing crises in poverty, war, and climate, each of which provoked further crisis in nearly every other category. One way or another, each of us tries to determine our best relationship with All This, especially if we believe that All This is a big mess that needs fixing.

Some people feel called to work directly and ferociously in the world to advance justice and healing. Others focus on caring for their individual circle of influence. Still others, more cynically perhaps, believe that human efforts to “do good” in the world are misguided, leading inevitably to harmful unintended consequences. You may not agree with them, but you should befriend them, since they are the ones building bunkers.

Some people strive to be “in the world but not of the world,” which means different things to different people. Many people of faith, in particular, believe that they can engage with All This, but must not submit to it or let it supersede their spiritual focus. This approach can promote a healthy life, balanced between action and contemplation. But it does not protect against paradox and cognitive dissonance. For example, earnest Christians may truly believe that all people are created in God’s image, but they proclaim this belief at 11 o’clock on Sunday morning, which is still known as the most segregated hour of the week.

Still others believe that All This is merely illusion, thinking perhaps of the Hindu concept of Maya, and therefore irrelevant to their own lives. Perhaps. But even so, don’t we still want to know what it all means?

“This life is a test.

It is only a test.

Had it been an actual life, you would have received further instructions on where to go and what to do.”

I have taken Jack Kornfield’s sentiment to heart, as it helps me acknowledge that my understanding is only partial.

I don’t know the meaning of All This.

Furthermore, I’m not even sure I’ve identified All This.

All This is more than meets the eye

When I find myself feeling unduly pessimistic, I do what so many wise people have counseled: I try to look beyond what I can see at the time. I try to see what’s hidden around the corner; to slow down a minute and widen my focus on what I call “reality.”

And sometimes, grace enters my reflections. Butts in, really, for grace does not ask permission, and grace will totally ruin a good pity party. It is by grace that I can shake myself and remember that I don’t know what I’m talking about.

I can’t see All This when I am outraged, judgmental, or frightened.

When I am limited by my own dismay and despair, I forget about THIS:

I believe that kindness is hardwired into humanity, right along with our violence and selfishness and tendency to forget names. But once in a while, someone sharply and vividly reminds us that we can be kind, we are kind, we must be kind to survive as human beings. And whoever reminds us of those truths has, in turn, done a great kindness for us.

and THIS:

No one knows whether, or when, or how humans will ever learn to wage peace in the world. Stephen Pinker’s learned optimism notwithstanding, our history seems to say otherwise. Still, I find deep meaning in the fact that against all odds, and against the powers that demand war, we continue to seek peace.

and THIS:

For me, there may be no greater challenge than the current challenge to our ecosystem — the possibility that we might destroy the Goldilocks Conditions that allowed human life to evolve herein the first place. It does look as if we have trashed the place, like we trashed that first apartment out of college because we knew we weren’t getting our deposit back anyway. But my hope is that we will grow up, stop soiling our nest, and see what we can do to reclaim our environment.

When I look beyond the obvious, I become able to invoke Garrison Keillor’s simple prayer: “Thank you, God, for this good life, and forgive us if we do not love it enough.” That perspective is what buoys me up and gives me hope.

It is not yet time to give up.

No matter how we insulate ourselves from the chaos of today or the further chaos of tomorrow, I believe we are still accountable for how we view this audacious existence, this miraculous life. For me, that view means stiffening my spine, grasping my lorgnette for a better look, and challenging the world as if I owned the place.

Because the meaning of All This

is all that we have

and all that we are.