Love & Fear
/The other night in one of his pre-bedtime philosophy sessions, my son started asking me about love. I explained to him how love makes everything and is always around us, within us, and holding us. He was surprised by this idea at first, sharing with me that he felt like love was when I hugged him or held him close — “How can it be there if I’m alone?” To me, love and awareness are synonymous, and after years of meditation, sitting, quietly watching, I’ve grown to trust the love and awareness that infuses everything, always. So I explained how we can experience love even when we’re alone. How it is always there, even if we forget.
“What happens when we forget?” he wanted to know. Just before this conversation I had been feeling a bit annoyed with his bedtime stalling antics (how many sips of water does one kid need?!), and so I told him how it had felt like to me to forget — I got tense and began to feel impatient with him. But then I had noticed my reactivity, and we stopped for a ‘reset’ moment together wherein we breathed and giggled together so I could remember the love surrounding us. I also shared other times I forget that I’m held by love — when I get scared, when I feel angry, he piped in, “or when I’m sad or lonely.” These are feelings we all have. And how we respond to these human experiences is where and how mindfulness practice can really offer us some support.
Sometimes I feel my emotions in my body before I realize what I’m feeling I’m experiencing. That happened this past week as I battled a tightness all along my left side. No amount of yoga or massage would make it budge. Trying to meditate it away, (yes that’s a thing), didn’t do much for me long term besides a few glimpses of comfort during my sits. But sitting with it did start to show me that my self-declared battle with this discomfort wasn’t going to do more than exacerbate things. Instead, I needed to welcome it, love it, and get to know it before anything was going to shift. Sometimes I just need to ask my body, “how can I help you? what do you need to feel safe and welcome here?” Not too many answers came during my sittings, but off the cushion I started to recognize the emotional baggage I’d been lugging around.
We’ve gotten into a nice routine these last couple weeks and things feel relatively ok, which has made it easy to push my fears and worries to the back of my mind (or shoved down my left side as it was!). Through my physical pain, my body was asking me to recognize, and love, the fear I still have. Without acknowledging and welcoming these fears and worries, with just unconsciously resisting them, I’m not going to see any relief or experience any growth.
In talking with my husband I began to see how fearful I’ve really been lately. The tension in my body would engage when I thought about going on walks — Would the people in my neighborhood have masks on? Would they practice safe social distancing as my son and I passed on the street? It would tighten up when I thought about groceries — Would we have enough of what we needed? Would we get a delivery slot? Would our delivery person be healthy? And the tension really grew when I thought about how we’ll all transition out of this shelter in place — Will it be too early? Will we just be prolonging all of this suffering? How will I feel safe again?
Wow. I was holding onto a lot more anxiety and fear than I’d wanted to believe. My experience has been relatively easeful during all of this, so I suspect that most people have far more fears and anxieties than my small sampling. Just like all fears and anxieties, mine were born from a proliferation of thinking — it’s easy for the mind to get creative in its worry and negative thinking - especially during a pandemic! The fears and anxieties I felt were and are nothing more than particularly charged thoughts. And just because I think something doesn’t make it true. Even knowing this though, while helpful, doesn’t necessarily stop the thoughts from arising or alter their felt impact on my physical body. But what it does change is how I meet myself, fears and all.
It’s ok to be scared, it’s human nature to not want to die — so sensing a real or perceived threat to my life and proliferating a variety of of anxious scenarios in my mind seems like a fair response. But since these fearful thoughts are rather unpleasant, my next reaction to push the thoughts to the back of my mind (or down my side) is where my suffering and struggle arise. Can I meet these fears with love and kindness?
So what does all of this have to do with the all inclusive, all pervading love I mentioned earlier? Well, pretty much everything. Instead of believing all of my fearful thinking, I can remember and trust that this love can hold it all — even the unthinkable — my or a loved one’s death. I can remember to tap into this love, ask for it, rest in it, trust it as I face all of this scary stuff. And I can recognize when I’ve forgotten it, so I can keep coming back to it.
Even when I’m alone, sad, scared, angry, frustrated, annoyed, tense, or in pain, love holds me. Love is everywhere — in the drop of dew on the morning grass, in the warmth of the afternoon sun on my shoulders, and in the cozy covers as I snuggle into bed.
As the antidote to fear, love helps me cherish and care for the parts of me that are scared instead of trying to hide them away or ignore their existence. Remembering the love that holds me, guides me into making healthy choices for myself and helps me to trust my instincts for taking care of myself. Mindfulness practice strengthens our awareness and our ability to meet each moment with kindness. And most importantly, mindfulness practice helps us to hear love's whisper even when we're the most afraid. All it takes is one breath, one split second of awareness to wake up to the love that is surrounding us.
May this guided meditation help you remember the love surrounding and holding you.
