Become Invincible
Regularly facing death is an uncomfortable, yet important exercise that helps us show up fully in life. Over a month in Pushkar, India, I’ve made a daily practice of facing cows roaming the narrow streets. Although cows have gored or tossed people, I practice walking by upright and relaxed, both conscious of and independent of any fear. Below are stories about facing our own physical and psychic end, and why I believe these experiences develop into compassion and an approachable kind of fearlessness.
Smell fear
Walking by cows in in Pushkar reminds me of a famous parable of the Buddha. He once faced a drunken, murderous elephant charging towards him, set upon him by his jealous cousin, Devadatta. Buddha firmly stood his ground, sending out waves of loving-kindness. The elephant stopped running just before the Buddha’s feet, suddenly bowing. Buddha stroked his trunk and spoke softly, causing the elephant calm down. Removing dust from the Buddha’s feet with his trunk, he spread the dust on his own head, in a gesture of worship and respect. The elephant then retreated peacefully.
While some might take this story as proof of Buddha’s supernatural abilities, I like to think about the simple power of walking up to an animal without fear. Many of us have experienced how dogs can sense fear. I wonder if this was the first time this fearsome elephant was approached in a gentle, confident way. I believe healing happens when we can face another being without flinching, as the Buddha faced the elephant. I aim to offer the Buddha’s equanimity in my own work. What does it take to offer this kind of unflinching fearlessness?
Death keeps you honest
In the “Rise of Theodore Roosevelt”, Morris describes how the president’s youth was dominated by an nighttime asthma which would give him the feeling of being smothered to death. ‘TR’ gradually discovered that an exercise discipline greatly helped his health. His interest in nature combined with exertion on dangerous expeditions. Even during his presidency, he regularly confronted wild beasts and treacherous mountains.
In TR’s story, truth is often stranger than fiction. In 1912, he was shot in the chest before a campaign speech. Since he was not coughing blood, he concluded correctly from his zoological knowledge that his lung was intact. So he decided to give the speech anyway, before seeing a doctor. Badass. His impact on America is significant and counterintuitive. His interest in hunting bizarrely leads to the largest conservation project America has ever seen. His fearless attitude towards war helped keep world peace for decades.
I believe TR’s achievements were at least partially related to him regularly facing his own death. Imagine facing a threat from the press or a politician after you’ve just come face to face with a rhino. It’s almost laughable. Facing death gives us a unique freedom to live with integrity.
Flavors of death
Death comes in many flavors, from psychic to social to physical. It’s hard to face or even know them all. I learned this in two experiences after my first meditation retreat in a Buddhist monastery in Northwestern Thailand.
Returning to tourist life after the retreat, I met a woman who offered to share a scooter rental. She was at first afraid to drive. When she was comfortable, I offered to teach her. A few minutes later, she veered onto the left shoulder and stopped. I asked her if everything was okay. She said yes. A second time she veered off. We got on a third time, and within 200 meters, she veered off again. This time, there was no shoulder. Instead there was a 20-foot drop, fortunately sloping rather than straight down. I remember being suspended in the air with her, thinking, “Oh well, I guess this is it.” The end of my life.
Maybe it was the effect of the retreat, or the years of meditating about death, but I felt totally at peace. I was ready to go. We flew over the handlebars, end over end, into the forest. Her head smashed into a tree trunk, my body into saplings. Fortunately we were both wearing helmets. We escaped with concussions, sore hip joints, and a few bloody gashes. I got our cycle out of the forest with help from a European couple, and drove us back to town. We bandaged up our physical wounds, and made space to release our trauma. Yet in the hours and days after the accident, I wasn’t feeling sore or even grateful. I felt proud and exhilarated that I had finally accepted my death.
But there’s more
Three days later I arrived in Chiang Mai on a Friday night without a place to stay. I wandered the streets with my big backpack, knocking on dozens of guest house doors. Finally, I found a dodgy place with a vacancy. They asked me if I wanted the cheaper or more expensive room, and I chose wrong. I woke up during the night several times. At first I thought I had a fever and forced myself back to sleep. Twice I felt itchy, but when I turned on the lights, I saw nothing. The third time, I was confronted with a parade of bed bugs that had feasted on my blood, too full and fat and happy to hide any more. I got out of there fast, but I knew that the worst was yet to come.
Scratching made the inflammation worse, so I had to grin and bear it. My body swelled all over, more and more bites appearing each successive day for weeks. I used to be the kind of guy who was tortured by even a single mosquito bite. This assault threatened to tear me apart. Somehow I was able to bear it, softening the agony by regularly returning to meditating on my sensations. I made it through somehow, after a month of suffering. This experience really shook my certainty from before. I wondered, “Is it possible I could give up my life, but somehow not have given up my body?”
Surfacing fear
In recent years, as I have listened more carefully, more fears have surfaced. Awareness has increased in part because my capacity to handle fear has increased. I believe this is related to my experiences facing death of all kinds. I thought about death on each step of a 10-day winter excursion into the Eastern Sierras, walking over avalanche-prone mountain passes and frozen lakes. Buddhism often draws a relationship between hope and fear, claiming that if there is no hope, there is no fear. I spent a 6-hour hike in the Himalayas meditating on this, saying to myself “No hope” with the right footfall, “No fear” on the left. Traveling has given me a regular opportunity to feel fear, to learn when to pause and honor it, and when to push through it.
As a spiritual guide, I’m living my deepest immigrant fears of financial demise, of wasted “earning potential.” I actively relish the feeling of embarrassment in love or artistic performance, as it usually arises from a fear of psychic or social death. Shame can shroud the parts of personality that are most afraid of dying. As I travel deeper into my places of shame, I am surprised less by the darkness in other people. I get closer to offering the kind of unflinching compassion Buddha gave the elephant. Each meditation has left me more aware of fear and less driven by it. Each is a work in progress.
Finding fearlessness
Although fearlessness appears at first to be a lack of fear, it is more precisely action independent of fear. To be truly independent, we must know our fear completely, so it cannot surprise us or cause us to act unconsciously. I meditate regularly on the temporary nature of my body, consciousness, and relationships. I feel a gratefulness for this moment, my health, my community, knowing that all of them will be taken away without notice or consent. As meditation created confidence in my emotional capacity, I go deeper into my fears, even into my fear-driven fantasies. I explore with the reassuring knowledge that in the end, all will be gone — my mind, my body, and so too the fantasy. With acute fears, I’ve sometimes managed by going deeper into the fear, while cultivating a feeling of universal love.
As with many Buddhist practices, facing your death is hard work. It helps to go slow and have patience. Compassion is the most important benefit. Mortality is at the center of the human condition and so protected that it’s our greatest human denial. Even making a little progress is useful. You may find yourself in a situation where the sick or dying can come to you for support, where others might turn away in fear or revulsion. Healing can happen when you offer a nonjudgmental ear for someone to share something they would normally never admit. You may find peace in situations where your body is severely compromised. You may face your own body’s decay with more grace than you thought possible. Awareness of death can pave the way for aliveness.
Finding invincibility
Invincibility, akin to fearlessness, appears differently once we grow in wisdom. At first, it seems like invincibility should be an incredible strength that can defend any attack. With experience, we realize that invincibility is actually a total surrender to the present moment. Whatever assault happens, there is no resistance to it, and nothing at all for it to destroy. If you have accepted every kind of your destruction, there is nothing further to fear.
Quotes for reflection
“While I walked, the fear and dread came upon me; I neither stood nor sat nor lay down till I had subdued that fear and dread.” (Buddha, Middle Length Discourses, The Division of the Discourse on the Root)
“The desire to live is a tremendous thing. Still greater is the freedom from the urge to live.” (Nisargadatta, I Am That, #26)
“The Super-human… has organized the chaos of his passions, given style to his character, and become creative. Aware of life’s terrors, he affirms life without resentment.” (Nietzsche)
