Fear of the Dark
I woke about a week ago, and told the darkness I was afraid of it. Not a declaration of courage, but admitting fear, cold blind overwhelming fear.
I woke up later that night afraid again, but angry at the darkness. The unknown dark that holds every phantom that has or ever will hurt me, with all their raw power. But angry, as they had all gathered around me, so that I could feel their electric energy and whispers of the pain they would cause, but none jumped. No monster made a move. Leaving me in absolute terror of the first strike, from which I knew there was no protection, and once started, no end.
I wrote down my fears and went to sleep feeling relieved. The next day, my resolve was strengthened by JFK. I went to a lecture by Jim Douglass where he'd researched into JFK's murder, but more startlingly the last years of JFK's life. Kennedy made progress from a hawk against the reds, to restricting nuclear testing which formed a sort of peace treaty with Krushchev, to pulling troops from Vietnam, to an impassioned plea of peace. Douglass argues that JFK was killed for the role he eventually achieved, that of an unlikely and convicted worker for peace. Whether you agree with Douglass or not, the picture of JFK is admirable and courageous, shockingly compassionate: the implications of such a life are a challenge to the hearer, and I couldn't miss the call to compassionate action in my own life. The call to confront fear(and in JFK's case death "the great unknown", Douglass stresses the point that JFK knew his battles for peace marked him for assassination) for all the right reasons.
Douglass also shared a practice from Gandhi, where he would practice "experiments in truth." And so, I've been experimenting in truth to see where it will lead. Gandhi's experiments lead to the liberation of India, maybe I can liberate myself of fear. Not through steadfast refusal of it's existence or of belief in my own invulnerability, but in truth. Volatile, experimental truth. Like the one that woke up me a week ago speaking to the darkness, "I am afraid of you."
I woke up later that night afraid again, but angry at the darkness. The unknown dark that holds every phantom that has or ever will hurt me, with all their raw power. But angry, as they had all gathered around me, so that I could feel their electric energy and whispers of the pain they would cause, but none jumped. No monster made a move. Leaving me in absolute terror of the first strike, from which I knew there was no protection, and once started, no end.
I wrote down my fears and went to sleep feeling relieved. The next day, my resolve was strengthened by JFK. I went to a lecture by Jim Douglass where he'd researched into JFK's murder, but more startlingly the last years of JFK's life. Kennedy made progress from a hawk against the reds, to restricting nuclear testing which formed a sort of peace treaty with Krushchev, to pulling troops from Vietnam, to an impassioned plea of peace. Douglass argues that JFK was killed for the role he eventually achieved, that of an unlikely and convicted worker for peace. Whether you agree with Douglass or not, the picture of JFK is admirable and courageous, shockingly compassionate: the implications of such a life are a challenge to the hearer, and I couldn't miss the call to compassionate action in my own life. The call to confront fear(and in JFK's case death "the great unknown", Douglass stresses the point that JFK knew his battles for peace marked him for assassination) for all the right reasons.
Douglass also shared a practice from Gandhi, where he would practice "experiments in truth." And so, I've been experimenting in truth to see where it will lead. Gandhi's experiments lead to the liberation of India, maybe I can liberate myself of fear. Not through steadfast refusal of it's existence or of belief in my own invulnerability, but in truth. Volatile, experimental truth. Like the one that woke up me a week ago speaking to the darkness, "I am afraid of you."