Can of Worms

In any situation, getting more information is often a helpful strategy. Learning more about wherever we are allows us to have more options and to be of more use to ourselves and options. Continual learning, whatever our age, affords us the pleasure of being in touch with this dynamic world that is always renewing itself.

While this sounds like such a great idea, I’ve recently been noticing all the barriers that get in my way of going beyond what I already know. It turns out we’re quite attached to the world we think we live in and this very attachment makes it hard to see what is right in front of us. This question is, as one of my former students so vividly put it: ‘How do we get out of the snotty-nosed neighborhood of our mind?’

Let me list a few of the things that I have noticed about what gets in my way of the genuine curiosity that is so natural for us human beings:

1) I think I already know what’s going on. Our human minds are structured in such a way that we are unaware of our own active participation in creating the world we perceive. From inside my experience, ‘I’ simply see what is ‘out there.’ I can’t see that I am only perceiving a small portion of what is going on. Without any conscious awareness, I assemble bits of information into a representation in my mind that feels ‘real.’ I naturally and unconsciously fill in all the gaps and simply do not perceive what I do not perceive.

2) I’m attached to how I think things are. All human beings I know rely on a relatively stable sense of ‘how things are’ to navigate the world. ‘How things are’ includes a story about myself and a story about the world. These stories can be negative (I’m a troublesome person) or positive (I’m a very helpful person) but they give us a stable sense of ourselves. Though these stories are always partial and often inaccurate, they give us a secure sense of at least being somebody. We all seem to have a primal fear of being nobody and are always, in some way, trying to make sure we really exist.

3) I’m not sure I really want to know more. This is a corollary of number two. Every situation contains ambiguities and unknowns. When we actively seek more information, we don’t know what we are going to find out. In relationships, we tacitly agree about what we won’t talk about. It’s too painful or too confusing. We avoid certain subjects to avoid ‘opening a can of worms.’

But now I can’t resist wondering about the potential joys of a wriggling can of worms. Aren’t the worms delighted to be released? Maybe we’re the worms and opening the can is the mercy that finally frees us. And wouldn’t it be a pleasure if you opened the can in your garden and all the worms escaped and then lived happy lives forever after; enriching the soil, nourishing the plants and living full and dark little wormy lives?

I suppose it all depends on your perspective. From my small sense of self, I mostly want to keep all the worms in the can. But it’s hard to fish with no bait. And maybe I’m the worms and not just the one who opens the can. And maybe this metaphor has already done more than its fair share of lifting this morning.

As usual, I would encourage you to see for yourself. The great American poet William Carlos Williams used to carry a notebook with him on his daily visits as a family doctor. The open page was always titled: What I have never noticed before.

Personal Practice: When you’re in some familiar situation today—with yourself or with someone else—try stepping back a little and just being curious. It’s not about trying to do something or make something different. What is there here you’ve never noticed before? What aspects or feelings or subtexts or unknowns are subtly or glaringly present? It may take awhile. Be patient. Just observe.

I guarantee that the world is bigger and more wondrous (and more self-revealing) than you could ever imagine.