Well, I didn’t exactly decide, since that would be self-contradictory. It was more an intuition that came spontaneously, just when I was getting ready to drink a steaming mug of café au lait at the breakfast table.
So I paused, with my elbows resting on the round wooden table. I didn’t reach for the mug. I didn’t not reach for it either. I can’t say I did nothing, because clearly what I was doing was avoiding the choice entirely, and yet in such a pointed way that it was anything but avoidance.
The steam wafted gently from my cup. It was just this suspended moment of not-deciding. I thought it was lovely at first.
The room suddenly grew very quiet.
It was excruciating. At first it was just sense of dullness, as if my head were swathed in wool, then came heaviness, then out-right anguish. It was hard to know if this was all in my head, or if there was some kind of environmental phenomena—but it sure felt like the walls were pressing in on me—like I was the focus of sudden attention-- you know those surround-and-orbit camera close-ups? I was caught in one of those.
In a spontaneous gesture, I snatched up the white ceramic mug, took a gulp of the cold coffee, and set the mug back on the table. Like a gently deflating balloon, the anguish drained away. Things were back to normal. The universe hummed along. I had that eerie feeling of not knowing if I had chosen to pick up the mug, or if it had been chosen for me.
But I think the universe made it quite clear. It wants to bifurcate. We have no choice, we must exercise free will, often, because it contributes to the dimensional richness of the cosmos.