The Buddhists teach that fear is like a slave at a festival who cannot enjoy the celebrations because of immanent obligations, while doubt is like one lost in the desert, wavering back and forth, going nowhere.
Change can be frightening for many reasons. Change implies new challenges and facing new unknowns. Change can mean abandoning old challenges and old senses of self.
Sometimes the need for change imposes itself like a rainstorm, unavoidable and undeniable. Sometimes the need for change can reveal itself in flickers of insight that appear and disappear, leaving a wondering uncertainty in their wake. Sometimes the need for change is covered in the detritus and fortifications of the mindless mind, and all that appears is a constant cross-current of feelings.
I want to talk about this last possibility; when there is a desire for change deep inside the mental recesses, but all that appears to the attempting self-observer is a narrative of discomfort (perhaps anxiety or longing) and a persisting medley of vacillating considerations.
First, how can I know that there is a desire for change? If the mind immediately leaps from this question to a further one – maybe its wrong to change – then that in itself is a strong clue, and this predilection for skipping ahead in considerations is a mode of unwise consideration. But if this doesn’t happen, how else might I know?
There would be no reason to ask these questions unless I was already aware of a constant emotional tug-of-war, whose breadth and rationale evaded me. Once I am aware of this, I can follow-up. What are the things I am denial about being dissatisfied by? There may be many things here. From these things, what is the thing that most agitates the pre-existing malaise in my heart? The averse feeling can act as compass to its own lair. To follow its thread means to follow in the manner of children, “cold, cold, warm, hot,” without questioning the logic of its premises. Following for the sake of ascertaining, not for the sake of justifying or arguing.
If I am deeply averse, or am a great architect of walls around my heart, then it may be hard to rest my attention on this thing. We are still not at the stage of changing, just at the stage of acknowledging a drive to change. I do not yet have to agree with this drive, but I do have to know its parameters, and take measure of its siren call. If it is so difficult to stare at this thing, then I should not expect that I will be able to carry its image in my mind continuously. Even if I do take stock of its name and form, I should expect that I will lose its image, once again be reduced to intuiting it as a vague and foreboding shadow.
But I can expect that at times I can see it. I can write down my thoughts on this goal I don’t dare believe. I can annotate it with arguments supporting my fear, and arguments supporting my dreams. Some hours will reveal a deep and terrifying clarity of purpose. Some days will submerge my mind in a wail of oppression and distraction. Some moments will flicker with epiphanies dissecting purpose and mechanism. Sometimes I will believe and sometimes I won’t.
The great masters of doubt and fear may not depart, even with revelations. But perhaps I may be brave and nurture the fire that lights the way.
