Patricia Pearce

Helping You Be the Change

The Art of Being Afraid

by

 

emerald heart on white cloth
When have you done something you were afraid to do?

I used to think that courage was the absence of fear, and I thought courageous people could do brave things because they weren’t afraid of doing them. I have come to see, though, that courage isn’t the absence of fear at all, but the willingness to step into it.

In spite of F.D.R.’s famous injunction, fear is not something to fear. It is a normal, universal human experience. In fact, being afraid of fear only amplifies its effect.

Rather than fearing fear, I have found the most helpful approach is to learn how to be with it, yet not allow it to dictate my actions.

Maggie Kuhn, founder of the Gray Panthers, famously said, “Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind—even if your voice shakes.” Maggie’s words exemplify what courage really is: the willingness to feel fear and still do what we must do.

Fear is uncomfortable, which is why we try to avoid it. It makes us feel queasy. Our voice trembles, our hands shake, we sweat. It is not a pleasant experience—and it’s not supposed to be. It is part of our hardwiring, designed to keep us out of harm’s way. It serves a useful evolutionary purpose.

But it can become an obstacle if we allow it to keep us from living into our full potential—from doing something that needs to be done, or speaking a truth that needs to be spoken.

Several years ago, I was on an airplane going to Denver. As the plane began its descent, a woman across the aisle and a couple rows behind me began to hyperventilate, clearly in distress. She told the people around her that she had survived a plane crash. This was the first time she’d flown since, something her therapist had encouraged her to do to help her heal from the trauma.

For most of us, getting on the plane that day had just been a matter of course. For that woman, though, it had been an act of tremendous courage. She may have been hyperventilating and clutching the armrests for all she was worth, but let me tell you, she was the most courageous person on the plane that day. It was her fear that made her so.

As the airplane safely touched down, the passengers around her applauded her for her courage. She was visibly relieved—and also empowered. She had done the very thing she was most afraid of doing.

Sometimes we believe that before we attempt something scary we need to get over our fear of doing it. But that isn’t how it works. We get over our fear by doing the thing we’re afraid to do.

It helps to approach fear like a curious observer, taking note of the physical sensations of being afraid. This engages the witnessing mind that can stand apart from the experience and watch what is happening without being caught in it. The more we observe the physiological effects of fear, the more we discover how similar it is to the physiological sensations of exhilaration. Simply noticing that can help us reframe the experience as something exciting rather than frightful.

Courage comes from the French word for heart, which I find quite beautiful. It suggests to me that courage is the willingness to live our lives guided by the heart regardless of the risks. Just as we do cardiovascular exercises to strengthen our physical heart, we can exercise our heart of courage by incrementally and regularly stepping into our fear.

That way, if we are ever called upon to do a truly daring thing, we will be ready—because we will have mastered the art of being afraid.

Getting to the Roots

by

Without its roots the tree will die.

Christmastide is ending today, the twelfth day of Christmas, and this weekend our Christmas tree will be coming down to be recycled. Surprisingly, even though it’s been up for almost three weeks, it is still drinking water and hasn’t yet begun dropping its needles. I know, though, if I left it long enough it would eventually lose the capacity to pull up the moisture it needs to remain supple and green and would begin to turn brittle and brown.

A few years ago, early one Sunday morning in December, I was parking my car near a place in our neighborhood where they sell Christmas trees just as the workers were unloading the trees from their truck and setting them up on the sidewalk to sell. As I watched them, I had a visceral feeling of repulsion. I saw Christmas trees in a way I never had before: as living beings whose bodies had been cut in half. Suddenly this yuletide practice seemed brutal and irrational to me, that we should slaughter trees by amputating them from their roots in order to celebrate a spiritual holiday.

And yet, in spite of my ambivalence about it, we have continued to buy a tree each year not only because we love the beauty of a decorated Christmas tree, but because it helps support the tree farmers in our region who would otherwise be selling their land off to developers. In an ironic way, the slaughter of trees helps save the land. Realizing this strange paradox, I feel enormous gratitude for the tree that stands in our living room, and in my heart I thank it for its sacrifice.

I think we are more like trees than we know. We have an outer, visible aspect of ourselves that everyone can see, the aspect that interacts with the external world and is engaged in activities, and, just like we do with our Christmas trees, we usually take great care to attend to its appearance. But there’s also the inward, hidden part of us that is just as essential to our well being but from which too many of us are cut off. It is the aspect of ourselves that taps into mystery, the unseen dimension out of which the outer being arises. Jungians would speak of it in terms of the unconscious that has access to the archetypal energies that fuel our psyches.

Ours is an externally oriented culture, and seems to be more so than ever now that we have technologies that keep us plugged into the external world 24/7. Trying to live constantly attentive to the external world, though, is like trying to live like a tree cut off from its roots. We lose our connection with something vital and life-giving and, over time, we begin to wither and die.

Some cultures are much wiser than ours about staying connected with their roots. In some cultures, for instance, people wouldn’t dream of starting their day before they’d gathered to talk about the dreams that had visited them at night. They understand that it is the unseen realm of mystery that offers them the wisdom they need to live well, and that only by being rooted in and nourished by that dark, unseen realm can the external self thrive.

People in the Western world might be wising up, though, to the fact that having to be at the beck and call of the external world round the clock is simply unsustainable. Last week, the Volkswagon company made a landmark agreement with their workers’ union that the company’s email servers would shut down after the work day so that workers will no longer receive work messages on their BlackBerries when they are off-duty. Hopefully it’s the beginning of a trend.

They say that a tree’s roots underground are as extensive as the trunk and branches that are visible above ground. Can you imagine how much healthier, happier and stable we would be — individually and collectively — if we lived our lives as balanced as trees do in their natural state, tending to growing our roots as much as we do our outer selves?

 

2012: More Than a New Year

by

If the leaders won’t lead, then it’s up to the people.

Well, here we are, embarking on the auspicious year of 2012, the year in which the current cycle (baktun) of the Long Count of the Mayan calendar comes to its conclusion. A lot of people have been speculating for some time about what that means, including some in Hollywood who have cashed in with their own special effects movie about a 2012 apocalypse. (The ancient Mayans would probably get a kick out of that Judeo-Christian overlay onto their tracking of long cycles of time, and our culture’s curious love of End Times scenarios. The Mayan calendar has, after all, gone through a dozen of these cycles before and the world is still here.)

Mayan calendar or not, I think it is true that we are reaching the culmination of a cycle and that the beginning of something new is at hand. Far from dreading it, though, we ought to be popping the champagne bottles and dancing our welcome to the changes on the horizon because, quite frankly, it’s about time. As we come to grips with the consequences of several centuries of exploitation — including devastating exploitation of the Earth — most everyone recognizes that we won’t be doing “business as usual” for much longer if we want to have a life-supporting planet to live on.Continue Reading

Jumping to New Year’s Conclusions

by

What future do you want to imagine?

I am not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions even though I am a firm believer in the power of setting intentions and visions for the future. That’s why my practice, when the year rolls to a close, is not to make a list of “shoulds” for the upcoming year, but to jump ahead and imagine what it is I want to be celebrating a year from now.

I take out a pen and paper and write a letter of thanks to the Universe for all that has come to pass in the year ahead, as though the coming year were not commencing, but concluding. The more I write, the more I can feel myself entering into the reality that I am envisioning. Then, when the new year begins, I feel as though my dreams have already come to pass and all I have to do is cooperate and do my part to let them express themselves.

My New Year’s practice draws on the wisdom of Jesus, that great guru of imagination and intention, who said that whenever we pray for something, we should believe we have already received it and it will be ours. It is our willingness to receive what we ask for, without reservation or resistance, that makes all the difference.Continue Reading

Returning Light

by

Do you ever doubt that the light will return?

Some years back we had a lot of rewiring done in our house, which was a huge project. For days on end, the house was crawling with electricians pulling wires through walls, and installing outlets and switches. The basement ceiling looked like a rat’s nest of conduit and copper. To a layperson’s eye it looked like complete chaos, and the work just seemed to go on and on.

One day, just as I was beginning to wonder if this would ever end, our electrician comforted us by saying, “It always looks the worst right before it’s done.” And sure enough, in a couple of days the chaos settled into an orderly array that magically lit up the house with the flip of a switch.

That experience came to my mind probably because tonight is the winter solstice, the longest night of the year for us in the northern hemisphere. Although I love the long nights, I realize that a lot of people don’t. The season seems bleak and depressing to them and they long for the return of the light.Continue Reading

What You See Is What You Get

by

Decades ago when I was first learning to drive, one of the first things my driving instructor cautioned me about as soon as I got behind the wheel was that I would instinctively drive towards wherever I was looking. His words of warning have stayed with me over the years not only as an instruction for driving, but as an instruction for living.

One of the challenges we face in our society is that we are constantly bombarded by the news media with stories of catastrophe and violence that draw our attention towards an image of a world fraught with danger. Sure there is danger, that’s part of life. But there is also exquisite beauty, miraculous possibilities, innumerable instances of goodwill, heroic compassion, and just simple kindness.Continue Reading

Precious Gifts

by

What are your greatest treasures?

One of the ironies of the human condition is that oftentimes the more we have, the less grateful we become. When I lived as a Peace Corps Volunteer in a village high in the Andes of Ecuador, among the Quichua people who lived in earthen huts, had no running water and little access to medical care, I saw how for them nothing was taken for granted. Food was precious. Health was precious. The thatched roof over their heads was precious. A child who survived infancy was precious.

In our country, as we approach Thanksgiving, the holiday catalogs are already beginning to pour in, inundating us with glossy pictures of all the things we can buy. But before the Christmas deluge I want to step back and take stock of all the things that I already have that are the true treasures in my life: friends and loved ones, food to eat, a place to call home, my beating heart, the sound of the rain falling outside my window, the air that fills my lungs, the ability to wake each morning to live the miracle of another day. For all of these precious gifts and more, I say, “Thank you.”

Making Meaning

by

How are you connecting the dots?

Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl wrote in his book Man’s Search for Meaning about his observation, from his time in a Nazi concentration camp, that those people who could find meaning in their suffering were more likely to survive than those who could not. He came to the conclusion that meaning is an essential human need.

One of the things that makes that so remarkable is how much power we have to create meaning. We may not always be able to control our circumstances, but how we interpret those circumstances and relate to them is by and large up to us.

When the ancients looked up at the nighttime sky, they connected the stars into pictures, constellations, that conveyed entire mythologies. Each of us in our own lives experiences moments of hardship, sorrow, blessing and happiness, which are like stars scattered across the sky of our lives. It is our choice how we will connect them, and, in so doing, what personal mythologies we will create.Continue Reading

css.php