Why Our Security is Always in Question
Experience is always already underway; appearing is always already happening. We can respond to what appears, but we do not author the appearing itself—and this includes the terms of our inner lives: thoughts, memories, moods (which all arrive without our consent). The self is never an absolute author but is always responding from within a field it did not produce or does not re-produce.
In fact, our entire existence is dependent. We did not produce ourselves and require what we do not fully control in order to re-produce ourselves: our body, others’ recognition, etc.—things, in other words, that are not subject to our will. This self—one which depends on conditions it does not produce—is “exposed”. This exposure is neither occasional nor optional but structural. This exposure is not tied to specific circumstances or personal defect which, in principle, could be avoided or eliminated. This exposure is, rather, the constitutive condition of being the kind of thing that we are: a finite, relational, embodied self. In other words, this exposure/dependence is—whether we like it or not—always already determining our experience.
The desire to be settled in our experience is an ever-present, ongoing project, already interpreting what appears in terms of this desire, already measuring/scanning and/or in pursuit/avoidance of what will affect our settledness. Because of this, appearances aren’t neutral. Because the things we depend on could always shift/fail/change without our consent, nothing that appears is neutral, but is always, before we think about it, being interpreted for what it says about how secure we are: things show up as already threatening, promising, enough, etc. In other words, if our footing could always give out, so to speak, everything is regarded in terms of how it affects our standing. A compliment may arrive with an implicit, “does this confirm that I'm okay/acceptable?”. A moment of ease may be accompanied by the question, “how long will this last?” And when, perhaps during absorbing work or deep rest, the active monitoring is silent, this silence is noticed as silence precisely because of its [default, non-silent] context. The pervasive [non-silent] unsettledness/dis-ease is what experiencing feels/looks like for a self whose ground is not its own; it isn’t simply an occasional malfunctioning.
This is why the pursuit of absolute self-security or existential invulnerability is something like a trap. The pursuit of this kind of security (distinct from ordinary precautionary pursuits such as healthcare, savings, planning, etc.) would require that we be able to step outside of our experience to author whatever shows up. This is impossible. The more desperately we try to become self-sufficient, the more are made aware of our structural lack of self-sufficiency, the very conditions we are trying to escape. In other words, the pursuit of invulnerability doesn’t eliminate our vulnerability but rather makes our vulnerability more salient. It reinforces the very exposure we were attempting to subvert.
Our security is in question in two senses: it is not ever guaranteed, and it is a question being posed by default—including the very question about why our security is in question. We didn’t author the question and can’t make it go away; the question was never ours to pose—only the response is.
FURTHER READING
Comments