I was wondering the other day why I love to meditate so much? I had the thought that when I meditate I am able to tap into a space within me, where there is no fear. There it is: a place of calm, peace, and fearlessness. I sometimes am overwhelmed with how much fear I have! Fear about my life, how things will turn out for me. Fear about my classes, whether I am a good teacher or not. Fear about people liking me and how hard it is when someone doesn't. Even when the phone rings and my parents call and I see that they left a few messages, I fear that someone in my family died. Fear. Fear. Oh, fear...

I was recalling a story that I read in Pema Chodron's wonderful book, "When Things Fall Apart." I mentioned this story in my classes and have been seeing how the students are taking it in, and really loving it. Here is the story:

"I once attended a lecture about a man’s spiritual experiences in India in the 1960’s. He said he was determined to get rid of his negative emotions. He struggled against laziness and pride. But mostly he wanted to get rid of his fear. His meditation teacher kept telling him to stop struggling, but he took that as just another way of explaining how to overcome his obstacles.

Finally the teacher sent him off to meditate in a tiny hut in the foothills. He shut the door and settled down to practice, and when it got dark he lit three small candles. Around midnight he heard a noise in the corner of the room, and in the darkness he saw a very large snake. It looked to him like a king cobra. It was right in front of him, swaying. All night he stayed totally alert, keeping his eyes on the snake. He was so afraid he couldn’t move. There was just the snake and himself and fear.

Just before dawn the last candle went out, and he began to cry. He cried not in despair but from tenderness. He felt the longing of all the animals and people in the world; he knew their alienation and their struggle. All his meditation had been nothing but further separation and struggle. He accepted-really accepted wholeheartedly- that he was angry and jealous, that he resisted and struggled, and that he was afraid.  He accepted that he was also precious beyond measure- wise and foolish, rich and poor, and totally unfathomable. He felt so much gratitude that in the total darkness he stood up, walked toward the snake, and bowed. Then he fell sound asleep on the floor. When he awoke, the snake was gone. He never knew if it was his imagination or if it had really been there, and it didn’t seem to matter. As he put it at the end of the lecture, that much intimacy with fear caused his dramas to collapse, and the world around him finally got through." 

Inspired by this eloquent story, may we all bow down to our fears. May we all bow to all that is concealed in our lives right now. To all those people who challenge us. May we learn to trust more in the universe and keep moving in spite of the fear. May we bow to the snake, to the King Cobra, swaying in front of us...