Piet to Heloisa and Rod

Rod and Heloisa,

Here is my outline for how I plan to spend a day working with the working hypothesis. I want to taste the paradox inherent in the previous sentence: the working hypothesis tells me that there is no `I' and that following any plan is likely to lead to the type of action that makes me look away from where the working hypothesis is pointing to. At the same time, here I am, living, breathing, I feel the presence of myself, of the world, of others around me, so as a starting point, I begin by accepting provisionally that that is my normal way of being. And from that very starting point, I try to stop.

As soon as I start trying to stop, I notice that the very trying is the exact opposite of stopping. I notice the `I' involved in trying, and I notice the agenda involved in trying to stop. I notice the subtle shades of wanting to reach somewhere, reach something, improve something, get something. All of these tendencies belie the working hypothesis. If the working hypothesis is really true, that everything is already complete, then all moves to `get' anything at all would fly in the face of the working assumption. Whether I believe in the working hypothesis or not is irrelevant: if I want to test it, the only way to test it is to take it seriously, for as long as I am testing, and that means that I have to spot my tendencies to stray from the real job.

The real job is to test the working hypothesis that all is complete, as it IS. Usually, our life is spent 24/7 in testing the opposite hypothesis. Each moment of our life we are testing the hypothesis that we are limited and needy creatures that need protection and fulfillment. We are always busy with maintenance and improvement, scheming along on many levels, from clearly visible to subtly hidden. One way or the other, in work and relaxation alike, we are busy working with the working hypothesis that all is incomplete.

What it means exactly to work with the working hypothesis that we are complete is impossible to state clearly in the language that we normally use, a language that is fully geared toward working with the hypothesis that we exist in time and that we are incomplete. So the first firm step in working with the completeness hypothesis is to just watch what it means, in practice, to work with the incompleteness hypothesis. This is a step that `I' can take. In watching thus, I trust that the second step will show itself, in the most paradoxical way, as a step that is not a step, as a step that, if you want to place it in time, is a step that has already happened. Memory tells me that, but I disregard memory, since that won't help me, and anyway there is no I that needs help.

Piet