"If you're free you'll never see the walls.
If your head is clear you'll never free fall.
If you're right you'll never fear the wrong.
If your head is high you'll never fear at all."
If your head is clear you'll never free fall.
If you're right you'll never fear the wrong.
If your head is high you'll never fear at all."
Anyone who has read more than a few entries of my blog probably realizes I do more than my fair share of reflection, on who I am, who I was, and who I hope to become. I think a fair bit about past experiences and how I think they may or may not have molded me into who I am today. A fellow blogger once told me I was "the most self-aware person she'd ever known". Am I more self-aware than most? Maybe. I'll give it some thought and get back to you.
Taoism teaches that to be fearless is to "conquer oneself"; it's not about conquering others. For a time, years ago, I believed this meant living without fear. Indeed, I thought a life with fear was no life at all, and only by living fearlessly could one be truly living. But the duality of the Taijitu ("the yin-yang symbol") is meant to remind us of the relative nature of all things. There is no "light" without "dark" and no "strong" without "weak". There can be no "brave" without "afraid". I understand that now. If you havenothing no one in your life you're afraid of losing, you have nothing worthwhile.
When I was a young boy growing up, being "manly" was always a big thing. Being macho. Being brave. You tried very hard not to cry no matter how much something hurt. You were expected to talk tough, pushing the envelope as far as possible while sensibly trying to avoid catching a beating, or at least not a serious one. Sometimes you'd gladly take a beating, rather than lose face by backing down. I posed the question to some friends at work the other day, "How many different people have ever punched you in the face in your lifetime?" At a guess, I'd say I weigh in somewhere between 10 and 20. I see it as a mark of "growing up in da hood", but I probably shouldn't feel the pride in it that I seem to. That number would likely be halved if I'd had the sense to swallow my pride and walk away more often. But that wouldn't have been "manly". Pride goeth.
One of the other parts of being "manly" back then - and perhaps even now - was that men like to theorize wildly about what they'd do if that ever happened, whatever that is. "I'd kill them!" "I'd rip their nuts off!" "I'd..." Whatever.
When it comes to primal fear, if there's one thing life has taught me, it's this:
You don't actually know what you'll do, not beforehand. Theorize all you like, but in that moment - whatever that moment is - how you react will have a lot more to do with the core of who you are as a person than whatever brave persona you were trying to push when you talked big so long ago. And you may surprise yourself, in ways that will bring you pride, or shame, or neither, or both. And that scenario you envisioned is likely way more complicated in real-life than the simplistic version you spoke of, and with luck your far-less-primal reaction will hopefully be a much better one.
For instance: the last time I was punched in the face was when I was mugged in my early 20s. I was walking alone at night in a bad neighborhood, just heading to the corner store from my apartment, when a guy walking in the other direction approached and punched me square in the face. I took the hit and ... felt remarkably calm. I could feel my blood start to race, sure, but I maintained my composure, surveyed my surroundings, and began to think tactically and weigh my options. I didn't instinctively fight back. I didn't panic. He was slightly smaller than me. For a clean sucker punch, it had no leather on it at all. (It wouldn't even leave a mark.) I pondered the possibility of fighting, and decided I could probably take him, but something in the back of my mind made me question if it was the right course of action. I chose to outwit him instead. He walked away with the $15 from my right pocket. I walked away with the unnoticed wallet in my left, including the $200, credit card, bank card, ID, etc. You might think paying someone $15 for punching me in the face should be chalked up to a loss, but when his two friends emerged from the bushes across the street moments later, I chalked it up to the right move.
I believe that in these primal moments, we receive unique opportunities to catch a glimpse, a little peek deep down into our own souls, to see all the way to the basement and know a little more about who we really are. I learned that night that I'm probably smarter than I am brave, but if "manly" equals "stupid", I can live with being a little less brave than I'd like to claim.
Around the same time in my life, I was a part of a convoy of mini-vans that was travelling along a highway across Nova Scotia when it started to rain, and the one ahead of ours hydroplaned into the dividing ditch at 110kph. No one suffered any serious injuries, but in the chaos that followed, while I was certainly not paralyzed with fear, I wasn't quite myself either. I didn't do anything wrong, but afterwards I felt like I could have stepped up and done more right. The other officers performed admirably, especially the one in charge, who was himself driving the vehicle that flipped. I don't know if I've ever told him that; I probably should. I wouldn't say I feel any shame about how I performed, just... disappointed.
Back four or five years ago, I had a moment of panic when faced with something as simple as a nosebleed that I (mistakenly) thought wouldn't stop. (Hard to explain here.) But that moment, coming face-to-face with that fear, as ridiculous as it might seem in hindsight, gave me another glimpse down into my soul, and spawned a bout of self-reflection that made me realize I'd taken on the role of parent much more than I'd ever expected. It was a very comforting realization.
And much more recently, I learned something that made me once again fearful, once again it was for my child. And in that moment, as my mind raced with a million thoughts of all the possible terrible outcomes, borne of fear and cynicism, as that torrent of anxiety swelled up inside me and thrust the question "What will I do?" into my mind, it was near-instantly quelled by a better, simpler question:
"What wouldn't I do?"
In that moment I felt a fighting instinct rise up within me that I didn't feel that night in the darkened street, or out on the slick highway. "What wouldn't I do?" I asked myself. "What am I not prepared to lose? House? Job? Friends? Family?? What am I not prepared to sacrifice?"
Nothing.
Burn it all down. Take everything I have. Because I have found within me something more valuable than everything else I've amassed in my 44 years. I've found a tiny seed of parental instinct I never thought I had. I found a flower my mother planted there before she died 23 years ago. I felt it blossum with the ferocity of an erupting volcano. Life dared to ask me if I understood what "unconditional" meant. I told it to pound sand.
And whatever the future brings, I won't give up any of those things easily, either. And perhaps I'm being naïve, but I'd like to think I won't need to. I'm certainly not about to sacrifice anything I value without a struggle.
Whether by will or by wits, they only get the $15. I'm keeping the damn wallet.
Taoism teaches that to be fearless is to "conquer oneself"; it's not about conquering others. For a time, years ago, I believed this meant living without fear. Indeed, I thought a life with fear was no life at all, and only by living fearlessly could one be truly living. But the duality of the Taijitu ("the yin-yang symbol") is meant to remind us of the relative nature of all things. There is no "light" without "dark" and no "strong" without "weak". There can be no "brave" without "afraid". I understand that now. If you have
When I was a young boy growing up, being "manly" was always a big thing. Being macho. Being brave. You tried very hard not to cry no matter how much something hurt. You were expected to talk tough, pushing the envelope as far as possible while sensibly trying to avoid catching a beating, or at least not a serious one. Sometimes you'd gladly take a beating, rather than lose face by backing down. I posed the question to some friends at work the other day, "How many different people have ever punched you in the face in your lifetime?" At a guess, I'd say I weigh in somewhere between 10 and 20. I see it as a mark of "growing up in da hood", but I probably shouldn't feel the pride in it that I seem to. That number would likely be halved if I'd had the sense to swallow my pride and walk away more often. But that wouldn't have been "manly". Pride goeth.
One of the other parts of being "manly" back then - and perhaps even now - was that men like to theorize wildly about what they'd do if that ever happened, whatever that is. "I'd kill them!" "I'd rip their nuts off!" "I'd..." Whatever.
When it comes to primal fear, if there's one thing life has taught me, it's this:
You don't actually know what you'll do, not beforehand. Theorize all you like, but in that moment - whatever that moment is - how you react will have a lot more to do with the core of who you are as a person than whatever brave persona you were trying to push when you talked big so long ago. And you may surprise yourself, in ways that will bring you pride, or shame, or neither, or both. And that scenario you envisioned is likely way more complicated in real-life than the simplistic version you spoke of, and with luck your far-less-primal reaction will hopefully be a much better one.
For instance: the last time I was punched in the face was when I was mugged in my early 20s. I was walking alone at night in a bad neighborhood, just heading to the corner store from my apartment, when a guy walking in the other direction approached and punched me square in the face. I took the hit and ... felt remarkably calm. I could feel my blood start to race, sure, but I maintained my composure, surveyed my surroundings, and began to think tactically and weigh my options. I didn't instinctively fight back. I didn't panic. He was slightly smaller than me. For a clean sucker punch, it had no leather on it at all. (It wouldn't even leave a mark.) I pondered the possibility of fighting, and decided I could probably take him, but something in the back of my mind made me question if it was the right course of action. I chose to outwit him instead. He walked away with the $15 from my right pocket. I walked away with the unnoticed wallet in my left, including the $200, credit card, bank card, ID, etc. You might think paying someone $15 for punching me in the face should be chalked up to a loss, but when his two friends emerged from the bushes across the street moments later, I chalked it up to the right move.
I believe that in these primal moments, we receive unique opportunities to catch a glimpse, a little peek deep down into our own souls, to see all the way to the basement and know a little more about who we really are. I learned that night that I'm probably smarter than I am brave, but if "manly" equals "stupid", I can live with being a little less brave than I'd like to claim.
Around the same time in my life, I was a part of a convoy of mini-vans that was travelling along a highway across Nova Scotia when it started to rain, and the one ahead of ours hydroplaned into the dividing ditch at 110kph. No one suffered any serious injuries, but in the chaos that followed, while I was certainly not paralyzed with fear, I wasn't quite myself either. I didn't do anything wrong, but afterwards I felt like I could have stepped up and done more right. The other officers performed admirably, especially the one in charge, who was himself driving the vehicle that flipped. I don't know if I've ever told him that; I probably should. I wouldn't say I feel any shame about how I performed, just... disappointed.
Back four or five years ago, I had a moment of panic when faced with something as simple as a nosebleed that I (mistakenly) thought wouldn't stop. (Hard to explain here.) But that moment, coming face-to-face with that fear, as ridiculous as it might seem in hindsight, gave me another glimpse down into my soul, and spawned a bout of self-reflection that made me realize I'd taken on the role of parent much more than I'd ever expected. It was a very comforting realization.
And much more recently, I learned something that made me once again fearful, once again it was for my child. And in that moment, as my mind raced with a million thoughts of all the possible terrible outcomes, borne of fear and cynicism, as that torrent of anxiety swelled up inside me and thrust the question "What will I do?" into my mind, it was near-instantly quelled by a better, simpler question:
"What wouldn't I do?"
In that moment I felt a fighting instinct rise up within me that I didn't feel that night in the darkened street, or out on the slick highway. "What wouldn't I do?" I asked myself. "What am I not prepared to lose? House? Job? Friends? Family?? What am I not prepared to sacrifice?"
Nothing.
Burn it all down. Take everything I have. Because I have found within me something more valuable than everything else I've amassed in my 44 years. I've found a tiny seed of parental instinct I never thought I had. I found a flower my mother planted there before she died 23 years ago. I felt it blossum with the ferocity of an erupting volcano. Life dared to ask me if I understood what "unconditional" meant. I told it to pound sand.
And whatever the future brings, I won't give up any of those things easily, either. And perhaps I'm being naïve, but I'd like to think I won't need to. I'm certainly not about to sacrifice anything I value without a struggle.
Whether by will or by wits, they only get the $15. I'm keeping the damn wallet.
