The Illusion of Certainty
I was thrown a pretty serious curveball yesterday. Not super fun.
I’m sure you’ve been thrown some pretty nasty curveballs in your life, as well. We all know that the pitcher doesn’t always throw the ball straight over the center of home plate. Sometimes the ball looks like it’s going to be way outside, then drops into the strike zone at the last minute, baffling the hitter. The curveball is one of the most difficult pitches to hit because you just don’t know where it’s going
Likewise, you and I know that life doesn’t always go as planned—we don’t have any idea where it’s going. But there’s something inside of us that loves to cling to certainty, so that we don’t feel life is as out-of-control as it probably is. I guess I’ve been doing some clinging, and now it’s time for some letting go.
Sorry, I’m being vague—it’s work related (nothing to do with my music stuff). But it’s unclear the full ramifications, so I can’t explain with much detail. But this much is true: this news really stinks. It’s like having a giant smelly bag of uncertainty placed into my lap: Ok, now let’s see how you deal with it.
The only certain thing in life is change.
I’ve been here before. I’ve had relationships end out of the blue. I’ve had “solid” jobs end in a brief moment upon coming to work. People die. Cars wreck. And doors are shut just as fast as they are opened. Now what? we ask.
That’s when we get to decide how we’re going to respond—perhaps this is the only thing in life we can control.
In life, nothing is promised. Nothing is certain. Yet, I keep looking for little markers of certainty to cling to, to reassure myself that I’m not being irresponsible or reckless, that maybe I’m doing life right. A blog on Farnam Street titled “Certainty is an Illusion” offers this: We all try to avoid uncertainty, even if it means being wrong. We take comfort in certainty, and we demand it of others, even when we know it's impossible.1
I sure try not to demand certainty of others, but I probably do. And I hope I’m not wrong about things I believe to be true or right. But I know I can’t be 100% perfect with any of this. Still, I like to believe I’m mostly prepared for whatever might happen in the future, having already run through many possible scenarios in my mind. If this happens, then I can do that, etc.
The book Uncertainty: How It Makes Science Advance states, “People strive for certainty due to an inherent desire for it. Uncertainty seems to be stressful in the same unconscious manner as anger and fear. We cannot really control this feeling, and we feel relaxed only when we feel certain about what we know or about what we should anticipate.”2
That’s why practicing a conversation beforehand is super helpful—you know what you’re wanting to say, and how you’re going to say it. Same with music: practicing allows me to feel more confident about my performance.
I also try to coat my life with generous amounts of faith. Faith is an underlying belief that whatever happens to me will not destroy me, but instead, might offer something of value—that may or may not be revealed. Even the randomness of life can contains meaning and significance, beauty and goodness, even if my first reaction is to feel sad, hurt, or angry.
That might sound kinda nebulous, but for me, it’s helpful. It basically lets me get up in the morning and say, “No matter what happens to me, I’m gonna be ok. And maybe even better than ok.”
But today it stings. And that’s ok, too. I’m gonna let it sting for a while. I want to acknowledge the fear and anxiety this news stirs up, before I try to whisk it away with new ideas and being busy.
I want to keep surrendering the illusion of certainty that creeps in from time to time, remembering it’s the uncertainty of life that keeps things interesting. It’s a grand adventure where you don’t know what or who is around the next corner.
In his book, Risk Savvy: How to Make Good Decisions, Gerd Gigerenzer says that life would be pretty dull without uncertainty.
If we knew everything about the future with certainty, our lives would be drained of emotion. No surprise and pleasure, no joy or thrill— we knew it all along. The first kiss, the first proposal, the birth of a healthy child would be about as exciting as last year’s weather report. If our world ever turned certain, life would be mind-numbingly dull.
Our reactions to what happens to us might be automatic—like the ick I’m feeling right now. But our responses to what happens to us are something we can still have control over, even while the whole world seems out of control.
The biggest mystery in life is what’s going to happen next. I can’t wait to see what it is.
Farnam Street, “Certainty is an Illusion,” https://fs.blog/certainty-is-an-illusion/
“The Psychology of (Un)Certainty,” Oxford Academic, https://doi.org/10.1093/oso/9780190871666.003.0002
Sorry to hear this Mark, hope you’re okay. I read this the other day: “All is well that ends well, and if all isn’t well, it’s probably not the end”.
Awesome thoughts Mark. Your share great wisdom. Our response to what happens to us is often the greatest indicator of where we are heading. As the storms roll in... and they will... are we going to spiral out of control in fear and anxiety or lean into God , our family and friends with a confident hope that we are loved and we can make it? Life is 10 percent what happens to us and 90 percent how we respond to it.
But saying that and doing that are two different matters. Sometime in the midst of the storm its just really hard and confusing. People, even our closest people will sometimes have a hard time helping us.
What I try to do sometimes is envision life's struggle as a stormy sea and then Jesus walking on top of the sea beckoning me to come to Him. This is not just a imaginary vison. Jesus actually did this with hi disciples.
Not only does Jesus rise above any storm we have ( He is stronger) ... He does so by coming to our rescue ( He is our Savior). He sees us and then and comes into our storm. He never goes the opposite direction. He is always coming for us, pursuing us, coming into our troubles to walk with us through whatever it will be.
This is really abbreviated and I'm rambling now. But the picture of Jesus walking over the top of the storm in rescue mode is comforting to me. I pray you will see Jesus walking into your storm today my friend. You are not alone. The creator of the world is with you.. as well as so many of us who are your friends.