It was an ink black night. I was lined up at the end of the run way awaiting take-off clearance from the control tower. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as a mixture of excitement and trepidation came over me. This was my first night flying training and I knew that as we were taking off into fairly uninhabited area there would be very little visual reference and I would need to concentrate upon the instrument panel. My instructor, a former Navy pilot and humorless man fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Romeo Victor Charlie, clear for take off”, came the control tower. I smoothly pushed the throttle into full position as the aircraft lunged forward gathering speed. At rotation speed the aircraft released its hold on the runway. Suddenly there were no runway lights. Excitement rapidly turned to fear and in an instant I caught myself saying to the flight instructor “I feel a bit scared.” As immediately as his icy glance came my way I wished I had not made any comment. He came back at me with a forceful and steely question that seemed to pierce my soul. “Then what are you doing about it?!!” I immediately gained composure and did what a pilot needed to do to navigate in darkness.
I have often looked back at that moment in my life with great thanks to my instructor. There have been many times I have had to navigate in darkness. . . and here I am referring to my daily life, not flying an aircraft.
Not so long ago my teacher had visited our Retreat Centre in our village of Shi Ta Wan, China. The local driver from Zaoxi had driven up the mountain to take us back down to the town below. We jumped into his little van. My teacher wanted to take the back seat, so I sat next to the driver. The driver took off as if there was no tomorrow. The very narrow road winds its way through hair-pin bends and past small villages. We were pushed from side to side as the diver picked up speed. I envisaged us going over the edge and being killed any instant. Suddenly as we sped through a village a dog leapt out in front of the van causing the driver to skid sideways. He made some remark in local Chinese about the dog and continued at break neck speed. Gripped with a sudden feeling of fear I look around to my teacher, a dignified Buddhist monk advanced in age. I pretended that I was simply looking at the scenery not wanting to show any sign of my inner fear lest I should be embarrassed by not attaining a level of meditative calmness. My teacher looked straight ahead expressionless. I marveled at his ability to remain calm, cool and collected and secretly hoped he would say something to the driver to slow down in local dialect.
We finally arrived in Zaoxi. My face and knuckles must have been snow white drained of all blood supply with my legs behaving like noodles as I climbed out of the van. I turned to my teacher as he brushed his robes and remarked without any tell-tale expression: “Tian na! Xia ren!!” which translates as: “Heavens above! That was frightening, wasn’t it!!” I roared with laughter. We laughed together as we thanked the driver. (Thanking him we arrived safely without incident!) Suddenly a memory flash came back to my night flying lesson. In an instant in time the two moments connected. My teacher was human. He felt the fear too! Only, he did not allow it to control him.
Mindfulness teaches us just that. There are many things in life that shatter us or can turn us to jelly. There are the memories that can still haunt us and cause us to panic at every turn in the journey of life. Fear puts tremendous stress upon the adrenal system and heart. Prolonged fear can have quite injurious effects to our physical and mental well-being. Most often we allow the fear to overtake us then the struggle sets in creating a vicious cycle. We can often find ourselves struggling against the fear: “Oh! I shouldn’t be afraid” or "I should get my act together". Somehow it doesn’t make the fear go away. We try other methods – a stiff drink, some pills, diversion – but the fear very often returns.
Mindfulness does not deny the fear but openly accepts it. Like my flying instructor it asks us: “what are we doing about it?” Positive and growthful action is necessary. Mindfulness is not violent to the fear. It says: “I know you are there. I can accept you and give you space to be.” We must learn that the thought of fear and ensuing emotions cannot harm us. What can harm is inappropriate action.
Accepting what “is” defuses the “struggle”. Mindfulness teaches us to breathe into the fear gently and slowly being aware of the body and its tensions. Often as a consequence the fear gradually subsides on its own accord.
Finally Mindfulness teaches us to be guided by what truly matters to us in life. As Buddhists we know that all things are impermanent. All things change. All ceases. Yes, even our fear. Allow yourself to be guided by your deepest inner values rather than fleeting impermanent feelings. As we concentrate on meditation and whole heartedly on the name of Amitabha Buddha all else begins to fade into insignificance. Naturally, we need to work at it. Just imagine your fear fading into insignificance. Frightening, isn’t it?
No comments:
Post a Comment