… and Stepping Beyond Fear
One of the ways we rob ourselves, and reduce our life is by demanding ownership of our experience. And ownership implies controlling the process and the outcome of what we own. But our life is not property. Life is a self-existing dynamic with our past and our world, unfolding naturally as a flower grows and unfolds. Ideally. But, as it is our life, we want what we want to occur in ways we want them to occur. And we want this in our time-frame. Like standing over a flower and yelling at it to grow faster. Or, maybe we are shaming, intimidating or manipulating the flower. Or maybe, more generously, we try coaching the flower to be its best self.
I hate that ‘best self’ thing. I’d like to tell the best-selfers to find their best self someplace away from me. Best self implies that there are unfortunates below, and those we aspire to above. But aspirations can be limiting. I know this is the opposite of what is meant by aspiration, but what are we usually aspiring to? Someone else’s value of success? Some way of finding love when we believe we are unlovable? Maybe we are basing our future on trying to rectify a broken past?
Or maybe we just want it our way.
With all respect to Frank and Sid, that my way thing is odd. Do we even know what my way is? All I know is that my way is a demand on our future. It is an expectation. An expectation based on what we know so far. This precludes any knowledge we might develop, or changes that are unforeseen. But life is unforseen. Expectations are a recipe for disappointment and disappointments breed resentment. So we are locked in the ouroboros cycle searching for the definite in an undefinable world. This leads to further resentment. Resentments are like cold condiment bottles from the back of the fridge we can’t seem to throw away. Resentments rob our life of joy. Suppose we just cleaned the fridge? Suppose we tossed out that old mayo turning gelatinous yellow? Why do we keep holding on to it? Are we hoping to meet someone with baloney and bread who needs us? But that mayo’s no good now, son. In fact it’s dangerous. Just let it go.
Most aspirations and expectations lead us to carry resentment. Are we trying to fill something lacking? We believe we are less-than and so shout in the mirror that we will change. We swear it. We promise it. And when it doesn’t happen, we ignore that and begin the cycle again fueled by resentment aspiring to change this time. When we don’t lose 10lbs, we try to lose 30. Maybe all we want is to be a version of ourselves that we can live with. All of these projections are based on what we already know and ignore all that we might become if we learn to let go. We are clinging tightly out of panic to the straws on the shore afraid of where the river will flow. Although straws won’t save us, they are not the problem. The problems come when we clench our eyes and hold to the straws, (the person, the moment or the memory) with such tenacity that we miss what is actually happening. We are still singing that song about the one that got away as we miss all the others asking us to dance. Sometimes I think we do this deliberately, specifically so we don’t have to try something new. It’s a peculiarity of humans that we will choose what we don’t want over what we don’t know. We will choose pain we have had over the possibility of a cessation of pain we haven’t experienced. Hamlet didn’t fear the sleep of death. He feared “what dreams may come”.
We choose the devil we know, I guess. The problem is we never know. Even the devil doesn’t know. The unexamined life leads to dancing with one devil we know after the next, just so we have a semblance of control. But the only way to have control over life is to reduce that life down to a very small space. Even then, none of us are really ever in control. And, although that won’t keep us from trying, the river of life will do its thing, as it does. It doesn’t need us. It is actually not our life at all, but an experience we are invited to take part in. And the more we try and wrestle it into submission the more we feed our discontent. The river flows where it will no matter what straws we cling to or plans we make. Our need to control the flow does nothing to enhance our journey, it just makes the ride cumbersome and inelegant.
So are we to just roll over and play dead? Have we no say in our life, even to lead a virtuous life? I believe we have every say if we release control and gain agency. Control is blind clinging based on fear. Agency is an awakened flow state based on acceptance. As the only way to effectively approximate control is to limit possibilities, we are allowing fear to reduce our life. But if we are in acceptance of what our life is, and where it is growing, then we can navigate our journey on the path. In order to navigate, we have to have our eyes open. We must see where we are in order to have any hope of influencing where we are going. And then we have to develop the mindfulness to pay attention as life unfolds. If we are awake and present, then life will show us where it leads. And then we can make an awake decision on how best to follow.
Finally, we have to be willing to work with fear and not succumb to the need to “do it my way.” Working with fear is acceptance of fear. It’s a willingness to allow fear to guide us. Fear is important for our survival, but it does not have to control us. If we accept our fear, we can use it as a stepping stone into the unknown. Rather than reacting to fear by reducing our world to habitual behaviours we have done time and time again. However, if we relax with our fear we can respond to life and all its dangers with creativity and spontaneity. We can try and control the path and predict outcomes to keep us from pain. But, pain is inevitable. If we accept this, and are willing to rest with our fear in the present, we might become an engaged partner in life. Like being seated and balanced in the Kayak, we can navigate the flow if we keep our eyes open.
Acknowledging how we are actually feeling is an important step in our fresh start. “I’m still feeling guilty”, “I’m still angry”. Felt senses often remain, like a veil over our next moment. Wiping the sleep from our eyes, we sometimes wake in the morning with echoes of our night’s dreaming like a cloak around us. Sometimes we don’t remember the details of the dream, but the feeling remains. Maybe this points to something peculiar in our daily life. The story is often ephemeral, while the feelings are more tangible. This experience is the opposite of our conventional approach where we believe thoughts and ignore our feelings. We attach to our version of events while diminishing or ignoring how we feel. But our version of events relies on thoughts. And thoughts are notoriously unreliable.
I’m writing on the day set aside to commemorate the life and service of Dr. Martin Luther King, which this year falls on his actual birthdate, Jan 15. To many, it marks a time to reflect on our lives and the contribution to peace, equality and understanding we may be making. It is also a day of remembrance of a fellow human who took on the superhuman task of changing the mind of the world in the face of great opposition.
Pema Chodron once said, the Buddha was someone who walked out the door, and just kept walking. HIs life stands as a testament of liberation from economic, spiritual or emotional encumberments. Many people interpret this to mean that attachments are bad, and that we should let go of everything at all cost. But while renunciation is the foot of meditation, once we have loosened our grip on things, the path to liberation continues back to service to our world. What about our families, friends and communities? And what of the Buddha’s own family? Were they actually smiling
But it is important to remember the doctrine of Basic Goodness. If we are able to see the goodness in anything, we can develop the ability to understand it. Attachment is the same energy, in essence, as mindfulness. The word for mindfulness 
We have funny glasses and lipstick stains and a raging headache. Even I, who have been clean and sober for several years, are working off a sugar and carb rush from gorging on bad food. Why? To prove I’m happy. Sometimes my life feels like a series of emotional selfies trying to convince myself of something. And so we begin the new year already buried in the past. We have grand resolutions, so inspiring today that we’ll maybe forget them in a week. In my drinking days, I would crumble the life around me, just to see myself build it back. I had a friend who told me I was simultaneously anal expulsive and anal retentive. Clean it up and tear it down. Clean it up and tear it down. And part of this crazy cycle were the outsized resolutions I would make. Inspirations that became obligations, forgotten soon enough that would be resurrected next year. We all wish for world peace.
these experiences are very ordinary. Maybe we have glimpses of the truth beyond truth all the time. But maybe we fail to recognize these opening into the profound as we scurry from place to place to place. Our earth evolved uniquely to host conscious life, so it is quite rare and precious. It is our home and the incubator that gave birth to a consciousness that can glimpse itself and the possibility beyond itself. Perhaps, it is through human eyes that the universe sees itself. Perhaps by seeing ourselves, we can see the universe.
A slow uncovering of the wounds that bind us, is an apt description of the path of compassion. Understanding and transforming our pain is a common motivator for the path. Many of us came to the path because we were in pain. There is nothing like a broken heart to introduce us to meditation. But once that heart has mended, or once we get tired of that broken song, what is it that prompts us to continue on the path?
So how can we help anyone, when we ourselves are wounded? We talk about “opening the heart”. But what does that mean? Usually, this statement evokes feelings of empathy, communication, and kindness. But doesn’t opening the heart also release the pain that we have been protecting and the suffering we are protecting ourselves against? When we began the path our wounds were the source of antagonism and aggression. In an attempt to protect ourselves from a future projection of past violence we struck out against actual or imagined danger. However, it may be that these wounds are also the source of empathy, communication, and kindness. The “Lion’s Roar” may be that the wounds we guard in embarrassed secrecy may be our gateway to compassion. When we have worked the path of self-discovery, we get what it is to be human. And because of this, we understand what humans need. Opening the heart is simply relaxing the protective tension with which we gird ourselves. As this cocoon is protecting us from real, imagined or remembered pain, we must respect it. Opening the heart is not about aggression at all. Opening the heart is acceptance and release.
Pema Chodron speaks of suffering as having created a wound in our heart. All of us have those wounds. Pema suggests that we cover the wound to protect it, as we would a physical wound. However, with a physical wound we remove the bandaid for it to heal under the sun. But emotional wounds often remain covered, and so healing is compromised. We become embarrassed of the wounds, somehow believing we are the only ones. Because they don’t heal in the shadows, the wound becomes sensitive to touch. We are constantly bumping into the wound, and flincing through life trying to protect ourselves from the pain. This creates more suffering. Yet, the saddest part of this is how we are denying the very thing that makes us unique. No one notices perfect trees in the forest. We notice the trees that are gnarled and curled from lightning, bent by wind or darkened by fire. These trees have character. And our pain gives us character. Lightning struck trees don’t feel embarrassed about themselves. Nor do three legged dogs. Nor do blues musicians, or poets as they express their pain. Is there a form of life on earth that judges itself as much as humans do? There is a song by The Big Moon that goes “trouble doesn’t last forever. The trouble is that memories do.” 
acknowledge and hold our fears, rather than be controlled by them. The cradle of loving kindness is the gentle firmness of the body opening to the experience of fear. Rather than constricting our feelings in a body of tension, we are holding our fear with openness.
On the other hand, should we STOP and FEEL into our present experience rather than be driven by fear, we can acknowledge and hold it with open arms.
deadly conditions and extreme energy, yet the mountain is seemingly still. It serves to inspire and guide us. It is not hurrying or competing. And should we be drawn to climb the mountain; haste would not be in our favor.
A kinder, and vastly more productive, approach would be to employ mindful awareness to relax into a flow state that optimizes our experience and honors our existence. We are able to stand up and hold ourselves with dignity and grace. I had a teacher that suggested I slow down enough to move quickly. This is pausing just enough to synchronize with our mindfulness and awareness. Then when we are interrupted, we can respond intelligently with consideration. We say considerate because we are considering a fuller situation before we react. When our mind is racing, we don’t have time for that we’re rushing down the street late for work and pushing people out of the way or cutting off cars on the road, without any regard for the basic human relationships that make us feel confident and strong. The more we push our life out of the way so we can force our agenda the more we are robbing ourselves from the fundamental sustenance of our life. That sustenance can only come from being grounded. It’s as if we’re pulling the nutrients up from the earth. But we can only do that if we’re synchronized with the earth. When we are synchronized, we are present, and the game slows down. We see that we have more options than the panicked reactions that come from speed would reveal. When we are grounded, we are able to consider more helpful approaches.
One thing that blocks the flow state for us is this feeling that we are pressured and have to make an immediate decision. We have to act immediately without pause, without thought, without consideration. When we’re running late, miss the train and we’re delayed another 8 minutes we stand on the platform looking up at the clock, tapping our feet. The speed and constriction that we become addicted to slams us into survival mode. Our options are reduced to fight flight or freeze. When something stops our momentum, we either lash out, run away, or freeze in a PTSD trance. The remedy is to boycott reaction, pause and breathe. Feel your feet on the ground. Come back. Then we can respond. 
actually have a considered response. It might be offering some counterpoint, it might be walking away, or it might be simply waiting in space until the next right action becomes clear. Once we make an offering of our anxiety our fight flight freeze reactions are transformed. We’re using the same mechanism of reactive mind but because we’ve paused and synchronized, we’re able to use these impulses with executive reasoning. Fight turns into expressing our point of view, flight may be that we can walk away. Retreat is not surrender. Retreat is simply stepping back to regroup. And freeze might simply be resting here. This is not a PTSD trance state where we can’t move but a loving pause where we have the option to do nothing but remain present. Not to react, but just simply to wait. And that waiting is the essence of patience. If we learn to pause when we’re triggered, we might find that we’re more patient at stop signs, more patient in the subway and more patient with our life.