What happens next?

I'm trapped in dissertation limbo, waiting for my Chair to respond to my submission. While I'm waiting, my constant question is "What happens next?" As if I can't wait to get out of this present moment into the next one. I'm not sure why, since I don't know what is happening now, let alone next.

Is it human nature to constantly want to know what happens next? Like if we just had some inkling of the disasters awaiting us, we could be more prepared? Right. What would you do if you knew there was going to be an earthquake in your neighborhood next Saturday at 3:00 a.m.? Would you take the week off from work to pack up your stuff and head for the hills? Would you buy earthquake insurance? Tell the truth.

A long time ago I attended a meditation group. I don't remember much, probably because I slept through much of it, but I do recall the teacher exhorting us to stop asking unanswerable questions and strive instead to be empty boats. What would an empty boat ask? That is a trick question. An empty boat would ask nothing. Boats can't talk. An empty boat would simply be. Floating on the river of life.

Sort of like my cat, I guess. He floats on the river of life. Existing in the moment. The master of the next right thing. Well, the analogy is interesting, but not all that helpful, since the cat doesn't have to earn a living, write a dissertation, or take out the recycling. Wouldn't life be grand if it were all about eating, peeing, pooping, and play? Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that retirement? More like institutionalization.

Retirement is an elusive impossibility for an under-earner like me, but institutionalization, that is not hard to picture. I'll be there soon enough, don't rush it. I'm not anxious to find myself sitting in a wheelchair, wearing a bib while someone feeds me cake and wipes my drool. Much as I dislike the prospect, though, there is something comforting about knowing that even if I can't lift a finger, I will be fed, clothed, and sheltered until I am dead. Unless Medicare and Medicaid give out. Then you can set me adrift in an empty boat.