The Fear of Letting Go
El miedo a soltar
A question about the fear that arises when sensing emptiness, and whether letting go of control might lead to losing one's ethical compass.
The Fear of Letting Go
A question about the fear that arises when sensing emptiness, and whether letting go of control might lead to losing one's ethical compass.
I think it would be helpful to talk about something that came up in the meditation. It was quite a workout. Staying with the discomfort was really intense. The way that holding showed up for me, and I think it shows up in other contexts too, not just this meditation, was this sense of fear. I could sense that emptiness. I could sense into it, and I could feel that there is nothing missing. But there's still a holding on, a fear. It shows up for me as something like the fear of God. I was raised in a religious background, and there are still aspects of it that I think are really beautiful and valuable, like the teachings. But the rub for me has always been this: if I let go into that emptiness, how do I know I'll be a good person? I understand that doesn't make sense rationally, but there's a fear. Will I make what I need to out of this life if I let go? There's a wanting to control. It's slippery and doesn't really make sense logically, which is why I wanted to talk about it.
You can approach that in different ways, and I think they're all valuable. One is logically. It's often important not to discard what my teacher would call correct thinking: thinking straight, thinking with discernment. In Eastern traditions, it's more like the Jnani path, where thought is used rather than bypassed. Bypassing thought is also a valid approach, but so is engaging what is still mind yet non-rational.
Pre-rational and post-rational
There are aspects of the psyche that were there before we developed rational thought; that's the pre-rational. And then there are aspects that are beyond or post-rational.
I agree with what you're saying about God. There is something real that we can name in different ways, and that's one of the names. Then there's the folklore, the narratives, the stories about what that is, and the belief systems. Those aren't that valuable or useful. But the direct relationship with what the word points to is useful, is valuable, is powerful, is important. What matters is that we relate more to what the word points to and not to the narrative and the thought construct.
When religion becomes all dogma
The problem with organized religion is that it becomes all thought, all dogma, existing only within the mind. The relationship with that which is beyond the mind, which is what the name points to, is lost.
Ultimately it's the same as self, though different traditions approach this differently. In Christianity, there is the concept of unity. After a certain progression, there is this experience of unity with divinity, the recognition of the Holy Trinity. These belong to the more contemplative traditions within Christianity. But it also ties to the recognition in Hinduism that Atman equals Brahman: that which is known as self is not in any way different from the absolute.
I'm playing loosely with words here. But this is all what I know and have experienced directly. I have the opposite background from yours. I was raised in a scientific environment. My mother tried to take me to church and I would hide. She only did it because it was what she was taught to do, because it was "the right thing." But my father was a very strong agnostic, scientifically minded, and I took to that. I was a very strong skeptic, pretty atheistic. But what happened is that I started to have direct experiences of what I could only call God. It really shook me.
The fear of God as a real relationship
The fear of God, to circle back to what you brought up, is a very real thing, and it's a very powerful relationship. I think there is something really core in that. What is the experience of the fear of God? Don't think of it as merely the result of stories you've been told, or as fear arising from dogma. There can be fears that are very rational: "If I don't do this, then that happens." But if there is a direct experience, a direct relationship with that which the word points to, and there is fear, then I would say: dive in there.
What comes up for you?
When I sense into the word God, it's a beautiful word. I feel that it can take me right there. In the meditation, what came up was this fear, this wanting to hold on. What if I mess that up? A sense of inadequacy. What if I mess up that connection?
And that's where the rational approach could be helpful. You're now in the realm of thought and rational thinking. You're in the realm of "I could mess this up, and therefore I need to not let go, to stay in control, because if I let go I won't have the same ethical concerns, the same attention to right behavior."
One approach there is: how do you know that by controlling, you're doing anything better?
I inquired into that in the meditation and also here. I don't know that. In fact, I was thinking that when there is craving and aversion, if anything, I can be more tense, more apt to snap at my partner or whatever. So it's not founded, and yet there's still an attachment there. I can see it's not rational. I'm even thinking, "Why this cycle of craving and aversion? Do you want to keep going with that?"
The middle way and the balance of opposites
I think of the right path. In Buddhism they talk about the middle way, and the way I see the right path is as a balance. In parts of the process, there can be realizations that get expressed in very absolute language, such as "there is no self." But all of that is just recognitions put into words.
In a deeper sense, what can happen is that both sides of a belief system can be seen through. There is no self; there is self. There is no evil; there is evil. There is no God; there is God. "I can act unethically" and "I cannot act unethically." All of these polarities are both true and false.
When there is a recognition, "Oh, there is no self," that only has value in the instant there is a belief in self as an absolute truth. Otherwise, it becomes a belief in no-self.
Ethics, love, and the risk of letting go too soon
The part of this process that relates to what you're bringing up, which I think is really important, has to do with ethics, with love, with action that is aligned with love, beauty, and truth. The concern that if you let go, you might not act as kindly is a valid concern. But there's the other side: if you hold on too tight, you will act unkindly, because if you are too much in the notion that it's all up to you and that you can fundamentally act very unkindly, then from that contraction and fear, unkind action becomes more likely.
But there's also a reality where the letting go can be premature, to the point where an important concern is given up. That opens the door to trouble when there hasn't been enough of the work you could call purification, or what is more commonly called shadow work today. All deep traditions were very focused on this. In fact, all of the non-dual teachings would only be given to people who had gone through all of the preparatory processes first. This is heavy in Buddhism, with all the practices of purification. You see it in all deep traditions of yoga. It's all around cleansing in order to prepare for deeper realization, because if realization happens prematurely, there could be a lot of interpretations and beliefs. For example: "I am perfect. I am saintly. I can do no harm. Everything is fine. There is no self." And then what is actually acting through the person are unconscious behaviors, instincts, fear and pain-based behaviors.
So I'm balancing that in this conversation. There is no one way. It's this balance. But it can move to a point where the concern about your actions arises from a place where there is such little interest in personal gain. And it's not a rejection of personal gain at the same time, but the priority becomes so much greater: that there is goodness, that there is service to love and truth.
Where the fear of God gets resolved
That's where the relationship with the fear of God appears. I believe this dynamic never fully goes away, but it does get resolved, because of a surrender that comes from service. It's not a surrender that comes from "I just give this up" or "that doesn't matter."
Or wanting to try to get something, which I don't know. Yeah.
That's the part I'm pointing at. When interest in personal gain becomes a low priority, not because you choose that, but because it's seen as not that valuable. And yet it's also not the rejection of personal gain. It's just that it's no longer the most important thing.
At the root of that, I would ask you: what is the fear? You said the fear of God. The fear of what? Not for you to answer now, but to contemplate. At a deep level, what is the fear? Because that's going to reveal what is unseen, what doesn't want to be seen. What don't you want to see? The mind is going to go there.
I think there is fear of that emptiness, and that brings up the fear again of "what if I mess up?" or "what if I'm doing something wrong?" I feel like I'm repeating myself a bit.
That's okay. What if you mess up? What's the problem with messing up? That's the side of contraction, right? The fear of messing up is: "I mess up, and there's going to be pain, there's going to be remorse, hopefully regret." And then, so what? That realization balances out the unnecessary extra control and contraction.
On the other side, if someone tends to be unconsciously living, not caring, messing up without worrying about it, then there needs to be more looking. So this is the balance. What's the middle way, where there is an acknowledgment that unloving action is possible?
The danger of "everything is perfect"
There are a lot of teachings around unloving action not being real, where everything is love. That's correct teaching in the sense that it counters a belief that the absolute reality is the opposite. But there's a danger in that becoming a belief system where everything is perfect, everything I'm doing is perfect, everything everybody is doing is perfect. That is not what I mean in the guided meditation. It includes sin. Everything is exactly as it should be, including sin, including evil. Which doesn't mean we don't do anything about it.
I think it's that this life is so precious, and I feel like it's an opportunity. There's a fear of: what if at death, or around that time, I look back and think, "You could have done this, this, and this better"? There's a big fear of that.
That's a really healthy fear. But the way you can relate to it is not to simply remain in the fear, but to let it be the energy that alerts you to look now. As the Sufis said, to live with death on your shoulder. That's what you're talking about. You're contemplating, on your deathbed, possible regrets. So you're contemplating dying. Then contemplate dying today. What would you do differently?
Contemplating death as a doorway
Pay attention. What risks are you not taking? What fear are you avoiding? What pain are you avoiding? This all ties into various forms of spiritual teaching, because it's really all the same thing.
The contemplation is going to bring up the illusion of self as absolute reality, because it's going to put that illusion in contrast with life: open, abundant, infinite in possibilities. When you contemplate regrets, you will hopefully get in touch with an energy of vitality and abundance. That is going to open up a choice. "I've been listening to this fear, for example not going in this direction. And now, as I contemplate death and regrets, I see that direction is very meaningful to me."
Now you have two worlds in perspective. One is what you really want to do, what life is calling you toward. The other is what you've been doing and not doing, which is listening to fear and avoiding that direction.
Now a choice appears. Ultimately, it just happens. But it happens from the seeing, and it can come from a deeper seeing: that the movement of life is more real and valuable than the movement from fear. The movement from fear is coming from an illusion: the illusion that the pain which might follow if things go a certain way is going to be too much for me, that I will disappear. Some form of "too much for me," too much for self. It brings in the fear of death. In that protectiveness, in that choice, the movement of life starts to make visible the relativity of self, to a point where what can be known as self is something that is not an object.