Excerpt
from A Thousand Names for Joy
46
|
There is no greater illusion than fear. Tao
Te Ching |
We can
only be afraid of what we believe we are-whatever there is in ourselves
that we haven't met with understanding. If I thought you might see me
as boring, for example, it would frighten me, because I haven't questioned
that thought. So it's not people who frighten me, it's me that frightens
me. That's my job, to frighten me, until I investigate this fear for
myself. The worst that can happen is that I think you think about me
what I think about myself. So I am sitting in a pool of me.
All fear is like this. It's caused by believing what you think-no more,
no less. It's always the story of a future. If you want fear on purpose,
get a plan. Fear is not possible when you've questioned your mind; it
can be experienced only when the mind projects the story of a past into
a future. The story of a past is what enables us to project a future.
If we weren't attached to the story of a past, our future would be so
bright, so free, that we wouldn't bother to project time. We would notice
that we're already living in the future, and that it's always now.
|
|
One day,
a few years ago, I was walking down what turned out to be a private
driveway. I noticed that there was no exit, and as I did, some large
dogs charged toward me, barking loudly. My thought was, "I wonder
if they'll bite me now." I couldn't project that they would, so
there wasn't any fear. They ran up to me, they growled and bared their
teeth, they stopped, they sniffed me, I waited and watched, and I noticed
that life was very sweet so far. And then they walked me back to the
beginning of the driveway. They were happy, I was happy… It was
a wonderful reunion.
"But Katie," someone might say, "isn't fear biological? Isn't it necessary for the fight-or-flight response? I can see not being afraid of a growling dog, but what if you were in an airplane that was going down-wouldn't you be very scared?" Here's my answer: "Does your body have a fight-or-flight response when you see a rope lying on the path ahead of you? Absolutely not-that would be crazy. Only if you imagine that the rope is a snake does your heart start pounding. It's your thoughts that scare you into fight-or-flight-not reality." Of course, I can't know what I would think or feel in a hypothetical situation. All I can say is that it's been a long time since I've been afraid. And I have been in some very interesting circumstances.
Living
fearlessly is natural when you've questioned your thoughts. People ask
me what that looks like today, and I sometimes tell the story of the
birth of my granddaughter Marley. When Roxann went into labor, we were
all there in the delivery room-I, Stephen, my son-in-law, Scott, and
Scott's parents. Everything was going well, until suddenly the baby
got stuck in the birth canal. She began to sink back into the womb,
and her heart went into distress. The hospital was small, and on this
night, at three in the morning, it was understaffed, the doctor had
no qualified assistant, and there was a sense of panic in the room.
He decided on a caesarian section, brusquely dismissed us, and wheeled
Roxann into surgery. She was screaming, and no one would tell us anything,
so we had reasons to believe that she and her baby were in serious trouble.
Then the screams stopped. We could hear angry or panicked instructions
at the end of the hall. An assistant from the emergency room ran toward
me, asked me to call a number and tell the person who answered to come
to the hospital immediately, then ran off without explaining what it
was all about. After I made the call, I walked over to Scott's parents.
When they saw me, they said, "Katie, will you pray with us?"
The question surprised me. I didn't have a reference for prayer. I looked
into their dear, tired, frightened eyes and thought, "There's nothing
I need to ask for. I want whatever God wants." But I joined them,
of course. They took my hands, closed their eyes and prayed, and I stood
there with them, loving them, knowing how painful it can be to want
a particular outcome.
During
this experience, there was no internal resistance, no fear. For me,
reality is God. I can always trust that. I don't have to guess what
God's will is. Whatever happens is God's will, whether my child and
grandchild live or die, and therefore it's my will. So my prayer is
already answered. I love Roxann with all my heart, and I would gladly
have given my life to save hers, and that was not being called for.
As it happened, the caesarian section went well, and both Roxann and
Marley were fine.
There
is another way. If I had believed such thoughts as "It's better
for Roxann to live than to die," "My granddaughter should
be born," or "The doctor should have been better prepared,"
I would have been very upset. I might have barged into the emergency
room, making it even more difficult for the staff. There might have
been anger, frustration, terror, prayers (the kind that attempt to manipulate
what cannot be manipulated). These are a few of the ways we react when
we believe what we think. It's what the war with reality often looks
like, and it's not only insane, it's hopeless, and very painful. But
when you question your mind, thoughts flow in and out and don't cause
any stress, because you don't believe them. And you instantly realize
that their opposites could be just as true. Reality shows you, in that
peace of mind, that there are no problems, only solutions. You know,
to your very depths, that whatever happens is what should be happening.
If I lose my grandchild or my daughter, I lose what wasn't mine in the
first place. It's a good thing. Either that, or God is a sadist, and
that's not my experience.
I don't order God around. I don't presume to know whether life or death is better for me or for anyone I love. How can I know that? All I know is that God is everything and God is good. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Copyright © 2007 Byron Kathleen Mitchell. All rights reserved.