On Fear

It's not so much that fear is a strength or a weakness.......it's more of a reaction whenever circumstances or some anticipated event get close to exposing us and our softspot, our tenderness, our sadness. We are afraid of exposing our hearts to the world, and when we get close to doing so, we find fear. So why does this happen when we're exploring a change? Well, we normally cover our hearts with habitual ways of operating in the world, to protect ourselves and make our experience predictable and safe.

When we're anticipating going against a habitual pattern, it is scary and we experience fear. From the point of viewof our self image (which is simply a way of defining that which we think secures us and makes us solid, and that which doesn't), fear is bad and something to be avoided at all costs. From the point of view of wanting to go beyond the constraints of a solid self because we find it suffocating and constraining, fear is good and something to be worked with, because it signifies we're on to something genuine and open.We're willing to open the windows and let in some fresh air if you will.

Very often fear is the vanguard of tenderness and softness. By thatI mean we notice the fear first, and then if we're willing to dive in or lean into it, we notice the sadness or tenderness underneath the fear. Lke a small green shoot in the garden under all that mulch. This willingness to acknowledge fear fully is the beginning of bravery,whether our knees are shaking, tears are streaming down our cheeks, itdoesn't matter. It's a willingness to be ourselves in spite of fear, to expose ourselves and let the sunlight into our dark corners. Without the willingness to face fear, there is no fearlessness possible and weare stuck in our self-created cocoon. That is why I said that fear is ultimately good news because it serves as a steppingstone or doorway to a new way of being.

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© 2005 Jeff Rubin

On Discipline

One theme that keeps recurring is the notion of discipline - what it means, how to achieve it, etc. There is a lot of confusion and Puritanism in our society associated with this concept, so I thought it would be valuable to discuss this from another viewpoint, a more experiential one.

Discipline is normally thought of as being externally imposed by one entity upon another. Either someone imposes discipline upon another person, like parent to child, or we impose discipline upon our self by ourselves. Imposing discipline upon another person is easy to understand, but imposing discipline on oneself is murkier. Does the “good” me impose some behavior on the “mischievous” or “bad” me? There seems to be a sense of meting out something “for one’s own good”, which often creates a painful split between multiple “me’s”. This is typically how discipline is conceived, something imposed to correct a wrong behavior, with a strong sense of duality, but the roots of the word belie that.

In the western tradition, the root of discipline is the old French “descepline” which means “instruction given to a disciple”. So originally there was a notion of wisdom passed down from teacher to student in some type of personal exchange, which implies that there was openness on the student’s part and some desire to broaden horizons. There was never a notion of imposing something on a recalcitrant “sinner”, at least until the Protestants got involved in 17th century England. Then the definition started shifting.

In the eastern tradition, the root of “discipline” is even more revealing and one which I personally have found to be much more helpful and inspiring. The term for discipline in Sanskrit (an ancient Asian language) is “sila” (pronounced Sheila) and it has to do with “virtuous conduct and morality”. The idea of virtue here is not the Boy Scout kind of being a “goody two shoes”, but acting in the light of one’s true nature. Virtuous conduct assumes that at heart we are decent, trustworthy and our fundamental nature is basically good. Therefore our behavior should (but often doesn’t) reflect this more fundamental sense of ourselves, that we are worthy to receive good things and enjoy our lives. Instead, we often secretly (or not so secretly) carry around a sense of not being comfortable with ourselves, not being good enough, that we are unworthy in some way, and that people will eventually discover our secret. This perception gets to the heart of self-esteem, and everyone shares this little secret to one extent or another.

Our approach to discipline begins from this dynamic. To use the example of attempting to lose weight, (but we could use any discipline-oriented behavior), we often begin with a feeling of unworthiness or just feeling bad about ourselves. This is often accompanied by self-destructive actions, and then we impose discipline on that part of ourselves to get rid of this bad feeling and replace it with better actions. We’d like to excise the bad behavior, and create a new way of behaving, without really acknowledging what is going on under the surface, to wit, that we’re not comfortable with ourselves.
We then add to the mix a very rigid concept of good and bad, and discipline often begins from this point of a clear schism between our so-called good self and bad self.

Genuine discipline on the other hand means accepting all parts of ourselves, even the yechy parts that we’re ashamed of and that bring up fear, and acting with gentleness and sympathy towards ourselves altogether. So eating well becomes an act of kindness to ourselves rather than something imposed on us to right a wrong. The behavior is the same in both cases, but they each come from a different place, a different attitude.

One of the reasons that diets only work temporarily is because the fundamental sense of who we are is often not addressed, so the same habitual patterns of feeling unworthy and anxious return again and again. In essence, the attempt to get rid of this pattern through brute force merely strengthens and reinforces it, in the same way that we strengthen a child’s tantrums by going loggerheads or giving into his or her demands. The pattern is finally broken when we acknowledge it and allow it plenty of space. Fundamentally, there is no problem with us that has to be “fixed”. We’re not broken, but we are fearful about who we are, about being ourselves.

Now it doesn’t really matter here whether we use Jenny Craig to help us lose weight or do it ourselves, the important point is to really tune into to how good and sane and synchronized we feel when our behavior reflects who we really are, namely decent, good and worthy human beings. Discipline is ultimately about synchronizing body and mind, whatever the behavior, whether it’s dieting, working out, doing laundry, parenting or putting together a huge business deal. When we do things wholeheartedly, for their own sake, and not simply to get rid of something that we dislike about ourselves, or to reach a specific goal, (although there’s nothing inherently wrong with goals), that is the essence of virtuous conduct, of discipline. When approached in this way, discipline feels delightful, and satisfying, because it is based on being gentle and genuine to ourselves, and being true to our inherent nature.

The opposite of this holistic approach to discipline is the example of someone working out on a treadmill while watching TV or reading the paper. The exercise is simply something to get through so we can get to the so-called good stuff, - body and mind are at odds, and the body is seen as a burden, almost like an unruly pet. Typically this type of discipline has meager results or falls apart completely. It might achieve the goal but leaves us feeling dissatisfied, because the real goal is how we relate to ourselves altogether. In reality, running feels good when done wholeheartedly, because synchronizing body and mind in the present moment brings a sense of feeling alive, vibrant and grounded. The ironic part of all this is that genuine discipline is the real source of freedom, because we’re free of the constant struggle to achieve some ideal future state where we’ll finally get to be happy.

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© 2005 Jeff Rubin