The Clown Fish and the Warm Balanced Zen Center
There is a scene in Finding Nemo — hey, I have kids and it’s hard not to like a movie about a father tirelessly working to rescue his only child — in which said father, Marlin, and his traveling companion, Dory, find themselves in the belly of a whale. Marlin, once quite cool, is an uptight sort, which is an understandable reaction to losing your wife and all your other kids to a barracuda attack. He is perturbed about being in the belly of a whale, especially since the whale seems to be trying to swallow them. Dory, who speaks whale, claims the whale is trying to help them.
Dory: He says, “It’s time to let go!” Everything’s going to be all right.
Marlin: How do you know, how do you know something bad isn’t gonna happen?!
Dory: I don’t!
Dory and Marlin let go. The whale launches them through his blowhole. They find themselves at their destination. Leaving Jonah and serendipity aside, numerous conversations lately have reminded me of this scene.
Some friends are in the belly of a whale; his benevolence is an unknown at this point. What is known is that the belly offers no solace, no joy, no comfort, no longevity. It is a belly like many bellies.
Yet they cling. They do not want to be launched from the blowhole. The consistency of drama and paranoia are preferable to the unknown. I have attempted to tell them to just let go. They resist.
It’s human nature, I am not immune to it, but fear of the unknown, the next step, is a silly reason to cling to a known source of dread.
Let it go. Let go. Feet apart, mind clear, balanced, ready to take your next step.