Nathan half awoke in the middle of the night, asking me what was on my mind.  I responded, “everything.”  That’s all he inquired in between dreams and snores, sensing my restlessness, before he rolled back over and resumed his nightly excursions.  I envied his childlike sleep in that moment, frustrated with my over-active mind.   I had already laid there for hours, watching him breathe as my thoughts raced from one thing to the next, not following any particular pattern.  I was grateful for him then, as I am now – he, the father of my son, and the love in my life.  But as I watched him breathe, I also imagined him not breathing, and the grip around my heart grew tighter, throwing my body into shivers and plunging my mind into darkness.  Fear took over my being as it has many times in the past two weeks, poking my neurosis with the question, “what if something would happen to him?”  He gets irritated when my brain gets consumed with such paranoia, but the fear seems solid and ever-present and I struggle with both, facing it and making it go away.  I’ve become scared of losing the ones who I care about.  I’m afraid that losing everything of value is somehow a lesson in this lifetime that I need to learn.  I’m petrified of being alone.  In the frequent times that these fears arise, I strive to reach deep into the vast knowledge I’ve picked up over the years, perhaps over lifetimes, towards the source that tells me to trust.  I recall the Buddhist and yogic teachings of non-attachment and the impermanence of life.  It makes sense and settles my mind for some time until the part of me that’s human, the part that is so attached to this life and the people in it, the part that’s so deeply emotional, rebels against these concepts.  After all, that’s all that they are – just concepts.  I don’t know how to align my experience with these beautiful philosophies.  I get them, grasp them fully with my intellect, but my experience just doesn’t comprehend.  My heart loves, so deeply, and with that love comes attachment.  Is this the game of ignorance?  Am I completely blinded by this illusion of life?  How do I embody the wisdom that resides deep down, the insights that come from beyond just this life?  How can I learn to live out these concepts that make sense on one level and don’t on another?  The idea of an equanimous mind is lovely, but how can I not  be reactive to something as tragic as death touching a life that keeps going?  Where does the grey between experience and theory become distinguishable?


4 thoughts on “Fears

  1. It seems to me that the healing is in asking the questions, and going through the grief process bit by bit, every day and night. There are not really concrete answers to life’s questions, and of course anyone would ask, why me? and what if? I empathize with your deep loss. Keep writing and doing all the small things within a day which are comforts. The blog is a way for you to have a witness to your trauma, it becomes tragedy when we allow others to experience it too. Blessings on your journey.

  2. IMHO I would say that you have broad shoulders, a big heart, and a partner close to you and these give you breadth and great understanding. Even all your questions are housed within you. Is there room for sadness, yes; is there room for hope, yes. In fact it is in part that both of these truths are where you are now standing and you are living out that understanding with a certain equanimity nonetheless. Your presence is learning as it grows and you shine the light of your consciousness as you do. Perhaps there is a play between the right and left hemispheres of your brain and the ways the human instrument integrates the experience you had may play against each other in order to open you to new harmonies. If reincarnation is a spin you can accept, such a short physical incarnation may have shown that you provided the womb room that Leif inhabited and all the love that he needed to graduate and return to astral form. The quest for answers to our questions remains, but love is the answer and love of learning is always in our hearts.
    I have no idea if these words will be useful to you but I join you with them in hope and good will.

  3. I believe what you are going through is the natural questioning and period of grief. Let yourself be embodied by it and be gengle with yourself. You only have this one moment, if it helps, stay only in the next five minutes; sometimes we can only handle those five minutes…that one hour…that one 24 hours of this day. I believe we are given only today and that is only what we can dwell in. Blessings, My Dear.

  4. I think that grief can cause a dichotomy. It is one thing to believe and cherish a set of concepts or ideas about the way the world works. And you can love those ideas and they can make perfect sense. But they can be at odds with how you may feel? As you say, sense on one level and nonsense on another.

    But I think that such a loss, the loss of a much love and anticipated child, can knock everything sideways, pull the carpet out from under our feet and make us re-evaluate everything we hold dear and thought we knew. And I don’t think that any concept or theory could stand against these emotions.

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