Dear Subscriber First Name,Last time I wrote, I was sitting surrounded by boxes in our old apartment. Now here I am, writing for the first time from my new desk—still surrounded by boxes. There’s so much to do that it’s a little overwhelming, but then, you can only do one thing at a time. So I decided I’d write to you. I’ve been thinking about a friend of mine—my age, maybe a little older. She’s just taken on a new job, it’s an important role. But before she was able to start, her partner was diagnosed with cancer—quite advanced and needing immediate and extensive treatment. So she’s had to say that she can’t fulfil that commitment, at least for now. When I heard her news, I thought of the Edward Gorey quote, one of my favourites: Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.
For my friend, the floor opened up. I’ve also taken on a big project (without even knowing quite what it will become!). Out the window are two acres of land, a huge number of trees, flowerbeds, and a fruit and vegetable garden. In the workshop: a ride-on mower, various chainsaws, and mechanical weed wackers. The list of things we need to do is literally endless. I think of myself as someone who’s up for a challenge, but I have to say, I’ve woken up a few times in the night and thought: Have we taken on too much? What if something happens? What if something happens? What if the floor opens up? What if I get ill? Or Dhammasiri does? Or one of us dies? Or a tree falls on the house? Perhaps we should have got a little cottage with a cute garden and put our feet up and waited for disaster to strike. “Some people grumble about monotony – such complaints are the marks of immaturity. Sensible people don't like things happening.” — Halldór Laxness in ‘Independent People’
But then what if nothing happens? What if we both have decades more of good health ahead of us? Time for many more projects? The truth is, we just don’t know—none of us do. So how do we live our lives? How do we decide what to say an optimistic yes to, and what to say a cautious no to? We probably all have our tendency in one direction or the other—mine is often towards a yes. But someday I’ll come a cropper, as my mum would say. What about you? Are you holding back for fear that something might happen? Or taking a chance on life, just in case it doesn’t? Though the question is relevant to all of us—the floor can open up at any time—as we get older, the odds increase day by day. I think that’s why I’m so inspired by older people who just keep living their lives as if they had no expiry date. Starting big new projects in their 70s. Committing to perform at Glastonbury in their 80s. What would a Buddhist attitude be to this dilemma? Well, it always comes back to the middle way. And the middle way here is to remember that: Life is intrinsically, well, boring and dangerous at the same time. At any given moment the floor may open up. Of course, it almost never does; that's what makes it so boring.
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