The Uncertainty Principle
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[Many embarrassed thanks to ol' eagle-eye reader Larry Hendrick for spotting an error in my geography. After reading and re-reading this article multiple times, I still managed to get my directions backwards! Originally I wrote "San Antonio to Houston" instead of as it now reads. Maybe I need to go back and reread this post. Thanks, Larry! - Proprietor]
I’m looking out my window this morning at a dense fog rolling into the area. I don’t know about you, but most of the time I love the fog - the sense of mystery, the muffled silence, the damp; I just find it interesting.
Unfortunately, fog doesn’t always make me feel that way. Sometimes it’s just, well, yuck.
Alternate Realities
Some time ago, I drove from Houston to San Antonio [see note above] on one of America’s longest freeways, Interstate-10. It was early, about 7:30 or so, but already my stomach was knotted up like pantyhose in a dryer. I knew the sun was above the horizon somewhere, but that was only because of the barely-discernible brightening of the heavy grey fog surrounding me. In all my travels (and that’s a LOT!) I’d never seen fog this thick before. My speed reduced to about 20 miles per hour, and even at that felt I was still taking a chance! I could barely see 50 feet in front of the car, and had no landmarks, signs or any indication of where exactly I was.
Not to mention the danger inherent in being forced to drive very slowly on what is normally a fast road, right? I mean, there could always be some clown out there with no sense whatsoever; you never knew if some bonehead might materialize out of the fog behind me and spread me all over the landscape!
My hands gripped the steering wheel as I slowly felt my way through the dense blanket of mist, trying my best to be pretty much prepared for anything. Sometimes it seemed as if I was the only person left in this entire part of Texas, and I found myself wishing for some sign of life out there, just to let me know I wasn’t alone. I’m tellin’ ya, it was about the spookiest driving experience of my life!
OK; now let’s go to a different day…
Some time ago, I drove from Houston to San Antonio [again, see note above], once again on Interstate-10. It was still fairly early, about 7:30 am. The morning sun had just peeked above the rolling Texas hills behind me, illuminating my way with its hazy golden light. My car’s shadow stretched before me like an anxious puppy on a leash, pulling me onward.
Fields, pastures, and assorted farm outbuildings passed as I tooled merrily along the gently rolling blacktop. There was hardly a car in sight, either; it seemed as if I had this entire part of Texas to myself that morning. The sky was blue, the pavement dry, and I had my favorite CD in the player. I’m tellin’ ya, it was a most pleasant driving experience, and all was right with the world!
Get the picture? Same road, same time of day, same trip - yet two totally different experiences. What made the difference? Yes, you in the back, with the suspenders - oh, the fog, you say? Would you be upset if I told you that you were, um, less right than you could have been? (I’m practicing my political correctness. I’m avoiding using the word “wrong”.)
Oh, sure, there was dense fog on one day and not the other. But to my mind (which admittedly is sometimes a very strange place), that’s not the real difference. Nope; it’s what the fog caused that makes this an important - no, a critical lesson, and I can sum it up in one single word:
Uncertainty (bright flash of lightning; deafening crash of thunder; sound of terrified scream).
The Curse of Uncertainty
Don’t you just hate uncertainty? (Again - bright flash, crashing thunder, screaming) Personally, I think it’s because we so like to be in control of everything. When it raises its ugly head I’m afraid it kinda makes us a little, you know, insane.
Back in January I wrote about a time when, as a project in Austin, Texas was coming to a close, I never could get a straight answer on where the company wanted me to go next. (Hmm… sounds kinda weird, doesn’t it - waiting for someone to tell you where to go? I’m just sayin.) Anyway, this went on for literally weeks, and it nearly drove Mrs. MZM and me crazy.
But what was the problem, really? Well, it wasn’t the situation itself (as whacky as that was), but the uncertainty (once again, with feeling) that was the intolerable part, you know?
To tell you the truth, I don’t really need to create another list of suggested strategies for managing uncert- (well, you know); the ones I put in that other post will do just fine. The only point I wanted to make today is this: You may be handling it better than you think.
“Huh? Now how would you know that?” you ask. Well, I don’t really know, of course. But here’s something we discovered during our trials and tribulations.
The Blessing of Uncertainty
You know what was really ironic? Our friends at church, who knew all about our situation, kept telling us things like, “I don’t see how you can stay calm at a time like this. It would drive me crazy! I could never handle it!”
Here we were, thinking we were coming apart at the seams, but everyone else thought we were really being troopers about the whole thing! Now that was weird. But it did help us see something we’d overlooked before.
I think this is one of those class of lessons learned that, like patience, you never know you have - until you can look back and realize you had it all along! Kindof a paradox, it’s true, but there it is. It’s when you can look back and say with amazement, “Hey, we made it after all!”
And that’s when we can look back and laugh.
(photo credits: eve, by lumase; uncertainty, by Meredith Farmer; Crazy Lady, by Orange County Girl)
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14 responses so far
Middle Zone Musings is a comfortable place to stop, have a cup of coffee, swap a few stories and share practical ideas for the real world. I don't ask for much, just a bit of your brain every now and then. Have a seat, take a load off, and relax...
uh … Robert, (sound of large gong ringing) when I drive from San Antonio to Houston on I-10 at 7:30AM, the sun is in my face, causing me to swerve and bob until I get the sunglasses on (aarrrgghh!) Maybe I’m doing something wrong (sentenced finished in upspeak)?
Wow, that gong is really loud! Larry, you’re absolutely right, and boy do I feel dumb! I meant to write “Houston to San Antonio”, but for some reason… oh, well.
Usually I prefer to leave my mistakes for all to see - it’s more educational for me. But this is something I believe is WORTH fixing (along with a note of explanation).
Thanks for the catch, Larry! Have some biscotti, on me!
Hi Bob,
Uncertainty takes a heavy mental toll because we have to use our high-energy-consumption prefrontal cortex to process what’s going on instead of letting our low-energy, pattern-matching brains take us down the familiar road in ‘autopilot’ mode.
I expect that this same phenomenon explains the experiences recounted in these letters about climbing China’s Mt. Huashan, which makes my Grand Canyon trek look like a walk around the block on a lovely spring morning! Notice how the western hikers swoon at challenge while groups of laughing Chinese stide by them as if it were a walk around the block.
Mike
Wow! That biscotti was delicious, Robert. I think I’ll have another.
Oh, I know this feeling so well, Robert. I think my most uncertain times are when I’m moving house. I can feel really wrong-footed by the whole process. I need to learn to relax about moving house from you and Mrs MZM
Actually, Robert, I think you might like this post, Out Of Control, over at the blog, Heroes Not Zombies. Check it out and see what you think.
Mike - Hey, I checked out that site, and all I can say is (runs screaming from the room)!
Holey Moley Mother Maud! What were they thinking? Man, it looks like a trek up Mt. Everest would almost be safer, doesn’t it?
Um, anyway, I think you’re probably right - it’s that prefrontal thingie you mentioned.
Larry, help yourself! There’s plenty more where that came from!
Amy, one thing I can definitely say about life: it goes on! What more do we need than to go along for the ride? The fact is, things are never as out of control as we may think they are.
I think that post had a good point - there’s never a time when you can truly do nothing. Sometimes it just takes us “letting go” before we can see it, though. I agree too - it takes faith; faith that there’s an answer. And there always is.
Great insights, Amy - thanks!
Hi Bob,
I have to admit, those pictures got me feeling pretty queasy myself, but after thinking things through for a bit, I have a bit of hankering to check the place out. Good thing my travel budget will only cover short driving distances!
Mike
Mike, this kinda reminds me of a scene from the old TV show Friends, when Chandler and Joey were telling Phoebe about their desire to climb Mt. Everest.
She just looked at them with that “you boys ARE insane” look and told them, “But people die there. And you would die!”
I like uncertainty. In fact, it’s about the only thing I really believe in.
I’ve driven every inch of I-10 at one time or another, and I’ve gone all the way through Texas on it twice. You get out west of San Antonio and there really isn’t anyone else. At times, there weren’t even any radio stations.
Yep; been there too, Sterling, and it do get pretty lonely - especially out towards El Paso; nuthin’!
Bob,
No. That’s the funny part of the whole thing. One can adopt the gweilo mindset and be scared sh!@less, or adopt the native mindset and laugh all the way up to the sacred temple. And guess who slips to their death most? Or crawls back down on their belly cursing the day they were born? We choose what experience we have in life, and Mt. Huashan can be a death-defying torture test or an exhilirating climb already made by millions.
Mike
Actually, Mike, I was talking about me! You, on the other hand, and judging from your own adventures, would probably be one of those who laughs all the way to the top.
No, really; this is one of those things that sorta “calls” to you, if you know what I mean. Like skiing the French Alps, sailing a boat around the world, or kayaking the Grand Canyon; that sort of thing. It’ll always be there, waiting for you - should you ever decide to go for it!
I’d like to think I could do it, if it came to that. Just don’t know if the opportunity would ever present itself.