On fear

By Deborah Anne Quibell

I sat in front of a light-hearted Tibetan Buddhist Rinpoche and listened to him talk about fear. His own fear. He told us a story about crossing a high glass bridge between two towers in Malaysia. After five steps, he froze—completely paralyzed with fear, surely convinced that if he walked any further, he would die.

“A Tibetan Buddhist Master afraid of death,” I thought to myself.

I somehow felt relieved. There are certain things that we share as human beings, common threads of experience, and this seemed to be one of those comforting moments of recognition. Hearing that a highly evolved spiritual being was afraid of death allowed me to hold my own fear a little closer. (Phew! I am not weak or a spiritual failure if I have fear. What a relief.)
As I listened to the story unfold, I realized that he was imparting powerful teachings on coping with fear. Something we all have to face throughout our lives. And simply speaking of fear—and how it shows up in our lived experience—was greatly calming.

For a brief moment, I thought to myself, “This is the first step to calming our fears. Talking about them. With light-heartedness and in conversation.”  So. . .

(1) Talk about your fear 
Fear is not something we suffer alone. On the contrary, fear is something we all share. And yet we very rarely speak of our fears with one another.
When listening to Rinpoche’s story, I flashed back to a moment I had with a client of mine. She came to see me towards the end of her life. She had been suffering with cancer for many years. When I met her, she was in a wheelchair, managing a total shut-down of her lymphatic system, which had caused massive swelling in her arms and legs. And yet there was still a warm glow to her eyes.
I sat with her for a few moments and then began speaking to her about death—inquiring into her thoughts and fears. She was remarkably quiet, as tears welled into her glowing eyes, and I wondered if I had moved too quickly towards touchy material. She took a deep breath, and with immense relaxation to her voice, said:  “Thank you so much for talking about this with me! No one wants to talk about death, about fear. It is as if we avoid it at all costs. And all I want to do is talk about this.” The relief was visible throughout her whole body.

In depth psychology, it is suggested that when we repress or suppress any particular emotion or idea, it is banished to the unconscious, and builds up tremendous energy until it breaks through if often surprising, unwanted, or devastating ways.

When we repress our fears, at a very inopportune time, we become paralyzed or overtaken by them. Similar to being stuck and frozen on a bridge just when we need to cross. However, when we acknowledge and speak about our fears to one another, it brings relief and comfort, but it also begins to dispel the energetic potential and charge that the fear holds in our psyche.

(2) Talk to your fear 
Yes, to it. Talk to your fear.
The founder of analytical psychology, Carl Jung, wrote often about bringing the unconscious and consciousness into dialogue—bringing the two opposing forces into conversation. And one main method he suggested for this is called active imagination. 
Jung defined active imagination as a method for “switching off consciousness, at least to a relative extent, thus giving the unconscious contents a chance to develop” (1969, p. 537). As these unconscious contents develop they often make themselves known to the conscious element of the psyche as figures, with specific form and attributes. Active imagination is the method for going to the unconscious, and beginning a dialogue with whatever figure(s) we encounter.

The starting point for active imagination is often an emotional disturbance. In this case, our starting point is the emotional disturbance of fear.
The first method to the emotional disturbance is attempting to clarify it intellectually. We make ourselves as conscious as possible of the emotional state we are in (fear) without reserve or hesitation. We then note down all spontaneous fantasies, images, or various associations that come up, keeping the associations as close to the original fear as possible. Since the fear comes from the unconscious itself—often experienced as an “unwelcome intrusion”—the amplification of the fear brings a picture to the contents and tendencies of the unconscious. By engaging the cooperation of the conscious mind, something unknown and incomprehensible becomes an idea which holds clarity and meaning. We begin to understand our fear in a new and different way.
The second method Jung suggested to deal with an emotional disturbance (in this case, fear) is a more creative or aesthetic one. You attempt to give some sort of form or expression to your fear. If you are more visual, this could be done through drawing or sculpting. If more audio-verbal, you may engage in spontaneous writing or noting down the inner words which you may hear. Thus, a product is created which is influenced by both your conscious and unconscious mind. And, most importantly, you have established a new relationship to your fear, which can be immensely healing.

(3) Be Kind, Welcoming, and Patient
I can hear you now, “Kind to my fears? Welcoming? Patient?. . .Seriously?” 
Yes, seriously.
Towards the end of his story, Rinpoche told us that in order to overcome his fear (and cross the glass bridge) he first had to recognize that his fear originated from deeper causes—experiences in his past, which had created patterns in his mind that he was not fully aware of.
Once he recognized these patterns, however, he did not self-destruct. He did not pull himself down or beat himself up or feel like a failure. Rather, he directed loving-kindness to his pattern, to his fear. He did not try to convince himself that his fear was simply an illusion, unworthy of his attention, pushing it away as a nuisance. Rather, he recognized his fear as real, and even began chanting a mantra that meant, “this is real but not true.” 

“Because of kindness. . .slowly, slowly, the habitual pattern started to shift. . .As I moved forward slowly, I held my habitual pattern as my own child.” 

Those were his words. He held his fear as he would hold his own child. I found that immensely touching.

erhaps we can try a similar approach to our fears and see what happens?

About the Author : 
Deborah Quibell is a professional writer and editor...