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Fear and Compassion - December 2001

In late August, I went to a meditation retreat with one of my most beloved spiritual teachers, Pema Chodron, a Tibetan Buddhist nun. The title of the workshop was Going To The Places That Scare You. The theme for the weekend was how to wake up and see things as they are, in other words how to be completely present with what is, even the stuff that makes our skin crawl. Among the teachings that have been handed down over the years to guide us along the path of awakening, Pema shared this: Go to the places that scare you, become familiar with the smell, taste and feel of your own fear. Become friendly with your own reactivity to that fear, see how you try to escape the scary parts of life. Go where it’s uncomfortable and stay there without judging it ... Two short weeks later, September 11th happened, and I remember thinking to myself, "Well, now I don’t have to go anywhere".

Fear is one of the molecules we breathe in everyday of our lives, now. Like the low-hum of static from electrical power-lines, it creates a crackle of tension in our nervous system - invisible yet definitely affecting our overall sense of well-being. I find myself grasping for the news throughout the day, as if being informed will save me from the horrific shock I experienced on the 11th. It’s a little like gripping the arm rests on the airplane during turbulence, as if that is going to keep me from falling out of the sky. The truth is, I did that before the terrorist’s attacks. The only difference is now I admit how scared I am to fly.

Fear was not introduced to the world when those planes hit the twin towers, but perhaps the illusion of our own immortality can be found in the rubble. In the past few months, I’ve worked with many students who have expressed anxiety, some overcome to the point of near paralysis. Although they may pinpoint Sept. 11th as the onset of their distress, upon further investigation it’s clear that fear was always there. The world events have been more of a catalyst bringing their doubts and insecurities to the surface so they can see how it colors their life. As Pema predicted, when we expose our fear consciously, we begin to wake up. It’s not comfortable to admit that there are no guarantees, and yet it is comforting, because on some deep cellular level we’ve always known it to be true.

It is through our willingness to accept that death is inescapable and to feel the terror that evokes in us, that we begin to develop a sense of compassion for ourselves. We discover that this is the thread of vulnerability that connects each of us to one another. As long as we refuse to taste the bitterness of death, we are unable to savor the sweet delight of being alive. The more we try to distance ourselves from all the things that scare us, the more anaesthetized we become to our own experience. In the weeks following Sept. 11th, there was an outpouring of openness expressed in the way strangers reached out to help strangers as if they were kin. The covers were pulled off and we stood naked before one another, shaken up, but no longer isolated and alone.

Awakening to the truth that we are not living in protective custody, does not infer crumbling under its weight. There is wisdom in the apparent irony of President Bush’s statement to, "Stay alert and go about business as usual." Pema calls this, "Being spiritual warriors on a sacred path". It means living life with intention, refusing to return to the state of numbness. How that translates into action is an individual choice that each of us faces. For some, the call to join the armed forces is appropriate, for others it’s marching for peace. I have found that starting my day with a prayer of remembrance, keeps me in contact with the pain and suffering being experienced around the world. I call to mind those who are devastated by loss and overwhelmed with fear at this very moment. I offer up a prayer of comfort that they may enjoy a good night’s sleep, a moment of respite from their agony. Remembering their pain allows me to touch into my own underbelly, to know their fear is my fear, no matter how many miles lay between us. Their lives are no more or less valuable than my own. There is no such distinction in matters of the human heart.

Blessings of peace and joy to you all.

The Yoga Barn, Inc.
Robin Rothenberg, Certified Yoga Instructor
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