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Practicing with Fear and Danger

This morning, from about 2:30 to 8:30, there were lightning and thunderstorms here in the general area of Redwood City. It was quite something to be awake at 3:00, looking out the window, and watching these big lightning storms in the sky before the rain came. I know it's common enough in other parts of the world to have these kinds of lightning storms, but where we live, it's quite unusual—especially lasting for so long.

Before coming down here, I thought about going for a walk. Sometimes, especially in the summer, I like to go for a walk up in the hills. The question for me was, is it safe to go up in the hills? With all the lightning, there's certainly some danger involved in hiking. I was not afraid, but I was cognizant of the fact that there was danger involved. So, I reflected on where I was going to walk, chose the trails carefully, and picked a place where I felt it was safe. As I walked, I paid attention to what was happening with the weather and how close the lightning was. Sometimes it was clear that it was quite far away. It turned out well for me. It did rain on me a teeny bit, but not much. It was just really glorious to be out there in the weather, hiking in the trees.

Distinguishing Fear and Danger

I tell you this story to make a distinction—to separate two things that are really helpful to keep distinct: fear and danger. Not all things that we're afraid of are really dangerous, and not all things that are dangerous do we fear. Sometimes the two go together, but not all things that are dangerous need to be feared. Learning to let go of fear does not mean a person no longer acknowledges that something is dangerous. I think one of the reasons people hold on to fear is because they conflate the two: the recognition of danger and the fear itself.

In deep Vipassana^[1] practice, this distinction is actually quite important. There's a certain kind of fear that comes up in deep spiritual practice that calls on us to begin letting go of some of the deepest attachments we have. We encounter places of clinging—especially clinging to self, clinging to life, and clinging to death. We have attachments to status, to relationships, to safety, and to our identity.

All these different aspects of identity are there for a good reason. Some of them were formed in us because of the dangers we dealt with in our lives; they were a way of protecting us. The fears that helped protect us were beneficial. Being afraid is not necessarily a problem. Fear can be a wise response to danger. However, there is also a wise response to danger that does not involve fear, and this is where Buddhist practice leads us. We learn to respond wisely to danger and, in doing so, no longer need to be afraid. Fear's function is to keep us safe, but once we recognize a danger, there are other ways we can keep ourselves safe without being afraid.

This movement towards becoming fearless is a core part of Buddhist practice. Part of what helps this process is seeing the difference between fear and danger. With that distinction, we can ask ourselves, What is it that's dangerous here? What is the actual danger?

Sometimes, just being afraid masks or hides the nature of the danger. I experienced this when I was younger: I was afraid, but I could not articulate exactly what I was afraid of. Some of the social phobias I had—like the fear of rejection or the fear of not being liked—were so deep and subtle that I didn't fully understand them. I knew I was pulling back from people, but I couldn't clearly say what the danger was. If we can start noticing what we are actually afraid of, and see that the danger is separate from the fear, it becomes possible to work with the fear in a different way. Then, we might be able to act wisely and take care of ourselves in a matter-of-fact way that doesn't require us to be terrified.

Clinging and the Terror of Death

An interesting place to look at this distinction is a quote from the Buddha. He said that there is the person who, having the nature to die, is scared and has a terror of death. But there is also the person who, having the nature to die, is not scared and has no terror of death. Death is a danger that all of us face. It's on the horizon for us, sooner or later. While it could be seen as a grave danger, the Buddha points out that there are those who are not afraid.

One of the functions of Buddhist practice is to overcome the terror of death. When you go really deep into practice, you experience for yourself how thoroughly you can relax and how thoroughly you can let go of clinging. There is something about that thorough letting go that releases the fear of death.

What is the relationship between having no clinging and not fearing death? Why does clinging bring fear, and non-clinging release it? It shows us that we have the capacity and potential to live completely at peace—relaxed, open, and present. There's something about that state of peace that teaches us that it's simply not worth clinging. Even holding on to life and resisting death somehow isn't worth the cost of collapsing, contracting, or losing that state of open non-clinging. It's an interesting dilemma: whether to allow oneself to stay open, or to surrender to the demanding authority of clinging, which insists that the danger is so great we must hold on.

I've known people who clung to all kinds of things throughout their lives, but when they knew definitively that they were dying, they could fully let go. They had no fear at the end of their lives, and it was quite remarkable. People would often go spend time with them, not just to offer support, but because the peacefulness they radiated was a wonderful teaching in itself.

The Buddhist teachings are not an escape from life. We are not removing ourselves from reality. Rather, it's a courageous confrontation and meeting of life so that we no longer fear it. We still face dangers, but we handle them with the best wisdom we have, without being scared.

Wholesome and Unwholesome Fears

In this teaching, the Buddha made a distinction between wholesome fear and unwholesome fear, or useful fear and unuseful fear. Not all fear is the same, and some fear has an important function.

Given the Buddha's great emphasis on the path to liberation, he noted that certain fears are deeply connected to that path. For a newly ordained monastic—someone firmly set on the path of liberation—he talked about having fear of committing the slightest fault in their monastic discipline or ethical life. To be afraid to act unethically is another way of saying you are afraid to cause harm to someone else. This can be seen as a healthy fear. While the anxiety or fright surrounding it might not always be helpful, a basic fear of causing harm feels almost innate and natural to many. I know that I have it, and I don't want to lose it. When I feel that fear of causing harm, I don't debate whether I should have it; it just feels like a healthy impulse that guides me not to cause harm.

As practice deepens and we see more clearly how the mind operates, we start seeing that greed is dangerous. We see that clinging is dangerous, that hatred has a certain danger to it, and that delusion is dangerous. We realize there is an internal danger stemming from how we engage with the world. We learn this because we see over and over again the damage, pain, and suffering that come from these movements of the mind. Every time we harbor hostility towards ourselves or others, it's painful and dangerous, and it's completely unnecessary. By seeing the movements of our own mind as dangerous—not to condemn ourselves, but to recognize the harm—we can simply say, No thank you, I don't need to follow that train of thought. I don't need to be involved in that.

The Four Useful Fears

It's interesting to look at the four specific fears the Buddha described as wholesome or useful. Translating the first two into something that works for an English-speaking audience can be a challenge.

Bhikkhu Bodhi's^[2] translation of the first is the "fear of self-reproach from misconduct of body, speech, and mind." I'm not sure what "reproach" means to everyone listening. The Pali word vāda^[3] usually means to talk or to speak. It refers to engaging in behavior that gives someone cause to come speak to you. They might say, "Gil, I need to talk to you because of something you said." "Reproach" might sound too much like criticism, but it's more about a mature, serious engagement and honest conversation regarding our behavior. This attānuvāda^[4]—self-concern and self-reproach for harming others through body, speech, and mind—is a fear the Buddha considered healthy.

The second is the fear of others coming to talk to us, which Bhikkhu Bodhi translates as the "fear of reproach from others." For example, I hold the teachers in my life in high respect. I wouldn't want to say or do things that would diminish their view of me. Because of my respect for them and the support they've given me, I have some fear of acting poorly. I don't think they'd harshly reproach me, but they would say, "Gil, we need to talk." That is a healthy concern. It's an act of respect and responsibility to remain open and amenable to having elders or friends talk to me about my behavior.

The third fear the Buddha talked about is the fear of punishment. Sometimes, that is the only thing that keeps certain people from stealing or breaking the law. And the fourth is the fear of a bad destination, which means a bad rebirth. For some people, that can be a very powerful motivation.

Working with Fear Through Relaxation

As meditation practice deepens, we recognize that the entire movement towards freedom takes place within our inner life. The deeper our spiritual life becomes, the more sensitive we become to the movements of the mind that harm us, stress us, or agitate us.

At some point in deep Vipassana practice, there is a shift from feeling afraid to simply recognizing danger. We are no longer afraid of change, impermanence, or losing things. We are no longer afraid of losing the self-identity we cling to. We stop being afraid of losing the pleasures and achievements that tell us we are successful. The fear shifts into a clear recognition of the danger involved in holding on. It doesn't mean we have to discard all identities or abandon all pleasures; some identities are perfectly fine to have. The danger resides strictly in the clinging. When that clinging drops, the fear of loss loses its power over us.

Making the distinction between fear and danger allows us to study ourselves when we are afraid without getting caught and trapped in the fear. Sometimes, we study the fear just enough to know what we desperately need in that moment. Maybe we need to get safe, leave a situation, be quiet, go exercise, or just go to bed. Recognizing fear often reveals the "first aid" we need to apply.

As we become better at taking care of ourselves and build confidence, we can start studying the fear more carefully. One powerful way to work with fear is to learn to relax. Relaxation is an incredible tool for overcoming fear and anxiety attacks. Deep breathing is a fundamental skill here. When something dramatic happens, it's almost natural for people to take a deep breath. Using deeper, longer breaths keeps us from freezing up, keeps our focus, and discharges the nervous energy that builds up during frightening situations. If you have to give a talk in front of a group—which is terrifying for many—learning to stay focused on your breathing will relax you. Discover where your body holds tension, and practice relaxing it.

Then, you can learn to question: What is the actual danger here? If we become aware of what we think the danger is, we can ask if it's genuinely something we need to be concerned with. For example, if I'm nervous in a social situation but don't realize I'm actually just afraid of what people think of my clothes, I might act awkwardly. But if I ask myself what I'm afraid of and realize it's just my wardrobe, I can shrug my shoulders and say, "I don't need to be afraid of that. Let them think what they think."

When we ask ourselves what we are afraid of, we often find that the dangers are entirely imaginary. They are predictions about the future spun by our imagination rather than reflections of what is actually happening. Seeing that it's merely an act of imagination creates space. It allows us to relax, enjoy ourselves, and feel the safety of the present moment.

Keep learning how to relax. While relaxation is often taught as a beginner's practice in meditation, it is also an essential skill for advanced practitioners. The more experienced a meditator becomes, the easier it is for them to relax in any circumstance. This allows them to be wiser, more intelligent, more caring, and highly attentive to the situation at hand. You can focus on your tasks much better when you are relaxed.

I hope you find these thoughts useful, and that separating fear from danger helps you navigate your own fears. Working with fear is part and parcel of Vipassana practice. Rather than feeling like something is wrong with you because you are afraid, recognize that fear offers a great occasion for practice. Fears are symptoms of something deeper inside us that needs our attention and connection. Using fear as a doorway to deeper self-understanding is one of the great gifts of the path of mindfulness. There is no need to be afraid of your fear.

Thank you very much. I really appreciate the chance to be here and talk on this subject. It looks like it's clearing up outside and the lightning is over, so I will now go on to face the next danger, which is driving on the freeways of the Bay Area. [Laughter]

Thank you.