When I was a kid, one of my favorite stories in the Bible was the one about how God would give the Children of Israel manna to eat. Manna would rain from the sky and it would sustain them. The thing is, at the end of the day, if you tried to keep any of it in storage, it would rot. While one could argue this was creating a kind of dependence on God . . . the conventional theory is that it was trying to show people they could have faith.
The concept of something that appears in the morning but can't be kept goes so contrary to how we view life these days. Something so transient, based on just a long shot that it will show up again, has very little value in our culture. It's not enough for us to have something with us right now. We want to know it will be there tomorrow, when we wake up. We want to know it will last.
The problem is, as much as we want to believe having a nice store of things will keep us more secure (and in many cases, it will), it also burdens us. Instead of being free to move along with a light load, we're suddenly weighted down by all this stuff we're carrying just to make sure we have enough.
This plays out a lot on many beginning episodes of Survivor. The contestants are given a huge bunch of supplies and told they can take whatever they want . . . but only the group that gets to their camp first will be allowed to keep what they carried. Suddenly the groups have to make a value judgement on what items are worth their weight. Almost always, there is one team that will pick up a lot of stuff and start trudging along with it. Also almost always, this team loses.
Of all of the inner drives we possess, I have to say I dislike preservation the most. This is part because of my own inner preservation demons. I keep stuffing my face to make sure I don't starve. Any even small feeling of hunger begins this cycle of panic in me. I know it's insane. I know it's not helping me. It's also almost impossible to resist. My inner drive of preservation is out of whack. But really, I think most people have the same problem.
When you are standing on the beach with your tribe and looking at all the stuff you can take with you to camp, it's almost like this kind of madness takes hold. You can get so much stuff! It will last and help the tribe and you'll win and who cares how heavy it is! Every item you discard probably sparks some small inner panic that builds and builds until you're sure you'll all starve within hours.
But if we can curb our inner need, really, this inner fear that preservation can't be achieved, we will begin to look at the problem with clarity. Take the tools. Take what you can use to help find food. Take nets because they're light. Take the things that aren't so heavy.
And if this means you won't have any food when you get there? It's okay. They won't let you starve. This is a reality show. If a tribe starves, it's bad PR. Something will help you find food. You'll be okay.
As much as we want to hold on to all the stuff in our lives, there is such freedom in letting it go. This is where the faith comes in. If you have religion, it's faith in your deity. If you don't, it's faith in yourself. Which ever the case, having the security that it will be alright no matter how little you have is a very secure feeling.
I have some friends who once told me they have no problem with the idea of selling everything they own and just moving away. They know they'll be okay. They know they'll find work. They aren't so deeply driven by their sense of preservation that they have to keep a lot of things around them to feel secure. They know that even if times get hard, they can adjust.
To me, living like this sounds scary as hell. It also sounds blissfully free.
No comments:
Post a Comment