The wheel is turning

and you can’t slow down

You can’t let go

and you can’t hold on

You can’t go back

and you can’t stand still

If the thunder don’t get you

then the lightning will

Jerry Garcia

The other night, there was a power failure in the middle of the night.  When power returned, the bedroom light came blazing on because normally it’s on a dimmer controlled by a remote.  My eyes shot open, and in my sleep-addled state, I decided that Ron had once again fallen asleep with the lights on.  I therefore got his attention with a gentle shake and requested in the nicest possible way that he turn off the light.  Being too sleepy to argue, he fell out of bed and did my bidding.

In the morning, when I saw the blinking stove light, I realized that poor Ron had not been responsible for disturbing my sleep.  Chagrined, I apologized when he finally staggered into the kitchen.  “If you knew it wasn’t your fault, why didn’t say anything last night?” I asked.

“What am I supposed to do?  You were poking and hitting me.”

“I was not, it was a gentle shake.  Besides you were awake too.”

“I was not.  You smacked me awake.”

“I did not SMACK you.”

“You did!  You kept hitting me and poking me and yelling at me….”

“I was not yelling!” I yelled.  It occurred to me that my gentle, evolved and highly compassionate self had once again been abducted and replaced by SHE: the hyena headed succuba who devours men,  spits out their clothes, then reconstructs reality as if nothing was her fault.

Embarrassed, I giggled.  “Ooops.  I’m sorry.  I thought you were getting up anyway.”

“Why would I be getting up?  It was 4 AM!  It’s just all about your wishes, your desires. You are the center of the universe.”  He starts a parody from The Princess Bride, a delightful movie from the 1980’s.  Talking in falsetto, he prances around the kitchen saying, “Oh, Farm Boy, the lights have gone on.  Oh Farm Boy, turn on the fan.”  I control my laughter enough to remind Ron of Farm Boy’s answer to all of Buttercup’s demands, “As you wish.”

A friend of mine once said to me, when I insisted that we create our own reality, that I lived in a solipsistic universe.  Fearing this meant some kind of disease, I ran for the dictionary. It means more or less that you create your own reality – you are the center of your universe. Well, actually, the dictionary said it was a belief that I am the center of the universe. Hmmm, don’t we all, deep down inside think that?  Even when we shuffle and scrape and humbly say gee whiz, I am nothing?  There is a little SHE living in each of us that believes, as Jimmy Stewart discovered in It’s a Wonderful Life, that the universe revolves around us.

Today, I was speaking to a student who shared the following story:

“My wife and I were on the Blue Ridge Parkway the other day, on our way for a hike.  It was absolutely gorgeous out.

‘Thank goodness it’s not foggy!’ my wife exclaimed.

‘For heaven’s sake, don’t say that!’ I interrupted, but it was too late.  Within minutes, a fog descended and before we went much further, the dense fog turned into pouring rain.”

I asked him if therefore he believed that the fog descended because his wife invoked the fog. “Absolutely not.” He said.

“But then why did you exclaim to her like that?”
“Because it’s true, even if I don’t believe it.”

“Does this mean you are the center of the universe?”

“Absolutely, aren’t we all?”

Yet, science, since the 17^th century has tried to tell me otherwise.  In their book,  A View From the Center of the Universe, authors Joel  Primack and Nancy Abrams state, “Cosmically homeless, our culture over the centuries downgraded the importance of having a cosmic home; today “the universe” in the popular mind has become little more than a shapeless space or a fantasy setting for science fiction, neither of which appears to matter much in what people call “the real world.” In a reversal of all historic and even prehistoric precedent, it is normal today to consider people who are more concerned with cosmic reality than with making money to be out of touch and unrealistic.” They go on to hypothesize that we are literally the center of the universe: exactly halfway in size between the largest and the smallest known things, we are the bridge between the macrocosm and the microcosm.

I kind of liked just being the center of my own universe.  The proposition that I am the center of the entire universe is a bit unnerving.  Until now, I was perfectly happy assuming that all creatures thought they were the center of the universe, and that I was an event they had created.  As I sweep through my garden knocking Japanese beetles off of leaves screaming, “Fly away!  This is not your home!  Go suck some weeds!” I just figured they had created me in their reality because they needed help to move on with their lives. Certainly you can’t reach the vastness of infinite potentiality if your universe consists of the same grape leaf your whole life.

Now suddenly, it seems that we, humans, are being told that we are some sort of lynch pin that is holding the entire cosmos together.  We’ve gone from being cosmically homeless to being the glue holding the fabric of the universe together. We’re not at home, we are home. I’ve gone from being a freewheeling insignificant piece of dust at the fringes of the cosmos to being the hub of the wheel of existence.  I’m the wheel and the center of the wheel. Perhaps, just perhaps this is what inspires our love for Vanna White.  There she stands, in all her blond glory, spinning the wheel of fortune. Vanna is our guide to the cosmos.

Wait! That’s it!  The universe has placed humanity at the center not because of our size, but because we are so entertaining!  If it was just bodies the universe needs, then why couldn’t lions or large dogs be the center?  What is this unique glue we create that holds the cosmos together?  It’s our daily dramas, road rage, armed rebellions, tango dancing, garden art, Sarah Palin.  Where else in the universe can you find an entire sub-genre of romance novels entitled Sheiks and Desert Love?  We are maintaining the balance of the universe with episodes of American Idol, knitting clubs and oil wars.

This gives me hope for humanity.  Not for our evolution, but for our continued existence.  If we are indeed the center of the universe, then that means the universe needs us.  So no matter how hard we try, we can’t wipe ourselves out.  According to the ancient Sanskrit Wheel of Time, our reality is destined to repeat itself over and over forever, fortunes and populations rising and falling.  Perhaps this is where the Greek mythological device, Deus Ex Machina really comes into play.  Perhaps there really was a time in the distant past when we were on the brink of annihilation and some force came down and saved the day.  Not because our hero was a good guy, or because of some altruistic motive on the part of higher powers, but just to keep humanity spinning and spinning that wheel.  So no matter how bad we make it, the universe will build us an ark, send down a ship, manifest a burning bush – because it doesn’t want to miss a single episode of Earth Follies.

It gives a whole new meaning to Shakespeare’s famous lines from As You Like It, “

“All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,…..”

It also explains why children love cartwheels, Sufis like spinning and we are awed by twirling ice skaters.  Like the wheel of the universe, we are turning, re-turning, falling and getting up. And that energy feeds the universe as it laughs and cries along with the turning of the wheel.

Then again, if I create my own reality, maybe I created the book, View From The Center of the Universe, so that I could just stop feeling so responsible for all the mistakes I make.  Like waking my husband up in the middle of the night….