Jonathan Foust

June 2, 2009

Fear of Transformation

Filed under: Dharma, Photography, Quotation — jonathanfoust @ 9:55 am
Me, succumbing to irrational exuberance in Iceland.

Me, succumbing to irrational exuberance in Iceland. (Thanks, Ravindra!)

This week I’ve been talking about Transitions and Transformations.  Who isn’t going through some kind of change these days?

Buddhism points to the Three Characteristics of Reality.  Impermanence, Suffering, and “No Self.”  The more we examine the moment-to-moment phenomenon, the more we can realize the possibility for freedom in the midst of change.

This reading below is long, but one of my favorites.  It speaks to how we cling to identity and fear the unknown.  The more comfortable we become with the mystery, the more we find ourselves free to enjoy the journey.

FEAR OF TRANSFORMATION

Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings.  I’m either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I’m hurling across space in between trapeze bars.

Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment.  It carries me along a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I’m in control of my life.  I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers.  But once in a while, as I’m merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see?  I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me.  It’s empty, and I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it.  In my heart-of-hearts I know that in order for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present, well-known  bar to move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me, I hope (no, I pray) that I won’t have to grab the new one.  But in my knowing place I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar, and for some moment in time I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar.  Each time I am filled with terror.  It doesn’t matter that all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it.  Each time I am afraid I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars.  But I do it anyway.  Perhaps that is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience.  No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives.  And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the void of “the past is gone, the future is not yet here.”  It’s called transition.  I have come to believe that it is the only place that real change occurs.  I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time that my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing” a no-place between places.  Sure the old trapeze bar was real, and the new one coming towards me, I hope that is real too.  But the void between? That’s just a scary, confusing, disorienting “nowhere” that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible.  What a waste!  I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid  the void, where the real change, the real growth occurs for us.  Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places.  They should be honored, even savored.  Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang-out” in the transition between the trapeze bars.  Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens.  It can be terrifying.  It can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word.  Hurtling through the void, we may just  learn to fly.

From the book, Warriors of the Heart by Danaan Parry

Advertisements

4 Comments »

  1. Your post today really spoke to me and where I’m at! I watch the itchiness of being in between the bars and looking around for something to grab but have been coaching myself lately to just not reach for a bar. If one comes and smacks me in the head, I’m giving myself permission to go ahead, but for the moment I’m relaxing my arms and softening in that space between the bars. Phew.

    I came back to your blog again after not checking it out for awhile and I’m glad I did! I loved that pet video and posted it too.

    Thanks 🙂

    Comment by Jamine — June 2, 2009 @ 4:12 pm

    • I so appreciate that itchiness … it’s not all bad … we WANT to engage … Enjoy the flight! Great to hear from you, Jamine!

      Comment by jonathanfoust — June 2, 2009 @ 5:19 pm

  2. Interesting. The only time major transformation happens for me is when I feel like I’m falling backwards down a flight of stairs as opposed to consciously seeking a change.

    Comment by Janna Chan — June 5, 2009 @ 11:55 am

  3. Hi Jonathan,

    Hope all is well – I MISS the Tuesday night yoga class. Sometimes I don’t realize how much I truly enjoy something until I can’t do it. I have been practicing some of the stretches along with the breathing – all is well with me – Have a safe summer

    Kaye

    Comment by Kaye Haga — June 18, 2009 @ 12:55 pm


RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: