When the writer is confronted with the blank page or the painter the blank canvas then the potential of what could be, whether written or painted, is vast. Even some things that have discrete options (like a game of chess) can – due to the vast number of permutations of possible moves – rapidly become something unique, a specific game that has never before been played before and may never be played again. At the beginning of our lives we are full of potential. There may be some guiding structure (for example in the form of family and in our DNA), just as the artist and writer may bring some intentions to the blank page, and our own intentions may to some extent guide how our life develops. But still there is the excitement of discovery, of not knowing what comes next: that what you are co-creating with life is changing in front of your eyes and you don’t yet know what its final form will be.

For some our experience of co-creation with the Universe is another pointer towards the existence of God whilst for others it is just more evidence of natural laws that permit, indeed encourage, the evolution of complexity (not least in its form as life, specifically human life) and which only a minority of scientists and philosophers approach truly understanding.

In many ways it doesn’t matter which line you take, or any compromise in between, as long as you acknowledge the wonder of what is happening. The fact that we live at all, the fact that things are so interesting (even if, alas, sometimes they are also horrible), is ultimately a matter for celebration of sorts. The older we get, and the more of the dots in our own life narrative have been joined up, we have the choice to remain fresh to this or to be jaded. Though each of us is still truly unique, special, a one-off! You are and I am.

But we don’t necessarily think of being jaded (or fresh) in our attitude to life as a choice. And difficult circumstances do make this much harder (whether because of systemic lack of privilege or random chance or whatever). We do need to be compassionate with ourselves, and each other, when we find ourselves in the pit of negativity. It isn’t always easy to just ‘snap out of it’. However, if you have a lifetime of resilience built in by habit, you may not struggle as much as others – and Buddhism, for example, teaches the discipline of what can be called Taking in the Good[1] where one might habitually take time to savour and therefore truly internalise into the brain’s neural wiring, the positive experiences we might otherwise let slip. Still if that lies beyond us in our malaise we might think on the fact that we might happily go to watch a film as a passive observer and often allow ourselves to be carried by the film, by wanting to know what happens in the end. Or maybe sometimes we have thrown a twig or a leaf in the river and wondered where it might go and whether it might even reach the sea. So even when we feel powerless, not in co-creation mode at all (and alas most of us will at least occasionally touch this difficult space in a lifetime) there may be something to surrendering for a while and allowing the river current to take us where it will.

Spirit of Life, the fact of both our power and our powerlessness is a great paradox of our living. Help us to engage in life with gusto and do what good we can in the world. But when we sense that things have gone beyond our capacity to influence, help us to truly know whether this is indeed so. And, if so, let it be. And find peace.

Or in the words of that great little prayer, grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can and wisdom to know the difference.[2]         Amen

[This formed Upper Chapel’s Wednesday lunchtime reflection on Weds 1st July 2020 and was originally distributed by email due to Chapel closure under Covid-19 restrictions.]

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[1] An idea I have mentioned before from the book Buddha’s Brain by Rick Hanson (New Harbinger, 2009).

[2] By Ronald Niebuhr