Somewhere in my twenties I
came to the realization that I was afraid of
everything. I'm not talking about things
particularly, as in certain phobias, but rather
a general overall feeling of dread about life.
Now after almost fifteen years of working with
clients, I have come to believe that most of us
are this way. We are driven by and from fears we
don't understand, and rather than sitting with
this discomfort, we reach for distractions to
disguise them from ourselves and others.
Westerners are pretty good
at drumming up a thousand ways to avoid pain,
mostly in the form of addictions. These
addictions can be cleverly disguised. Some, such
as alcohol and drugs, are obvious. The less
obvious addictions, however, range from
television to overwork to all sorts of human
drama. We are afraid of living and we are
terrified of dying. To avoid living, we continue
embracing unhealthy behavior. We pick, perfect,
argue or defend. We insist there is a code of
behavior that, because we ourselves believe in
it, should likewise be followed by everyone
around us. We remain enmeshed in our need to
control others, becoming expert at putting them
out of our hearts because they fail to meet our
expectations.
The soul's journey I
constantly refer to in this column is the spiral
journey to the center of the self. Words such as
transformation are not used to imply that we
become something other than what we are. The
process of growth and transformation may instead
be thought of as the means by which we
acknowledge, day by day, that there is more to
life than these petty games and dramas. Deep
within, we are all vulnerable, fragile and
afraid of not being enough. And though we might
translate this into not DOING enough, in essence
I believe it lies deeper. What if we are
inadequate? What if we are not who we think we
are? What if, at our core, we are plain, simple,
unremarkable? Would that be enough? If we die
with something left undone, what have we
contributed to life?
What do we do when we are
afraid, as all of us are from time to time? Do
we push others away? Do we ask for what we need?
Do we recognize our fear and allow ourselves to
sit with it until something shakes loose? Or do
we refuse to admit to our own human frailties?
Do we insist others remain strong, even though
common sense tells us they are just as fearful
as we are? Do we find fault with others instead
of recognizing our own understandable
shortcomings? How do we deal with life's
uncertainties? Where do we try to hide? What
methods to we use to avoid living?
Asking such questions
challenges the ego or small self. It brings into
question a collection of beliefs we hold about
ourselves. How we view our world, our
perceptions, are being challenged. This process
can prove to be quite trying, and it is nearly
impossible for some to undertake. Some of us are
too full of self loathing and judgments to allow
ourselves to glimpse what we perceive as
weakness. For if we've built a shaky inner
foundation, it can easily topple under such
scrutiny. We are then left grasping for ground
to place under our feet. Learning to sit with
this groundlessness can teach us more about
ourselves than we can imagine. It can teach us
how easily fear translates into control. For if
we can control people and circumstances which
surround us, we think we can hold fear at bay.
But the energy it takes to hold back fear is
immense. And, as Pema Chodron, author and
Buddhist says, the nature of life is that it is
challenging. When one challenge eases, another
begins. Why not instead learn to face our fears
and move through these challenges, instead of
trying to hold back a virtual tidal wave?
One of the most difficult
things we can do is to open up and feel what we
are feeling. To sit with this raw, vulnerable
self while rattling with fear and inadequacy
takes a great deal of courage. Yet the degree to
which we are able to face this core self is the
measure by which we are able to return to an
authentic sense of being in the world.
Authenticity means we are
coming from something honest, something innate
to the self. Many of us have no idea what this
core self will look like, yet feel we have no
option but to take the journey to discovering
it. On the way, we uncover things about
ourselves, some of which we like and some we do
not. Acknowledging our imperfections allows us
to view others as imperfect as well. As we reach
this understanding of shared human suffering, we
begin to practice compassion. As we practice
compassion, we reach a deeper level of self
knowledge, for we realize we are all struggling
with similar challenges. Learning to love the
self despite all our flaws stretches us, but
ultimately results in the experience of
stretching our capacity to love others. The
energy we were using to control others then
returns to us, where we can use it to restore
balance and healing to ourselves and to the
whole of humanity.
