Fear: Essential Wisdom for Getting Through the Storm

by Thich Nhat Hanh

Most of us experience a life full of wonderful moments and difficult moments. But for many of us, even when we are most joyful, there is fear behind our joy. We fear that this moment will end, that we won’t get what we need, that we will lose what we love, or that we will not be safe. Often, our biggest fear is the knowledge that one day our bodies will cease functioning. So even when we are surrounded by all the conditions for happiness, our joy is not complete. We think that, to be happier, we should push away or ignore our fear. We don’t feel at ease when we think of the things that scare us, so we deny our fear away. “Oh, no, I don’t want to think about that.” We try to ignore our fear, but it is still there. The only way to ease our fear and be truly happy is to acknowledge our fear and look deeply at its source. Instead of trying to escape from our fear, we can invite it up to our awareness and look at it clearly and deeply.

Fear keeps us focused on the past or worried about the future. If we can acknowledge our fear, we can realize that right now we are okay. Right now, today, we are still alive, and our bodies are working marvelously. Our eyes can still see the beautiful sky. Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones. The first part of looking at our fear is just inviting it into our awareness without judgment. We just acknowledge gently that it is there. This brings a lot of relief already. Then, once our fear has calmed down, we can embrace it tenderly and look deeply into its roots, its sources.

When we practice inviting all our fears up, we become aware that we are still alive, that we still have many things to treasure and enjoy. If we are not busy pushing down and managing our fear, we can enjoy the sunshine, the fog, the air, and the water.

Fearlessness is not only possible, it is the ultimate joy. When you touch nonfear, you are free.

Similarly, if you like to spend a lot of your time at a café, it may not be because that particular café is so interesting. It may be because you’re afraid of being alone; you feel that you always have to be with other people. When you turn on the television, it may not be because there’s a fascinating program you want to see; it’s because you’re afraid of being alone with yourself.

If you’re afraid of what other people might think of you, it comes from that same place. You’re afraid that if others think negatively about you, they won’t accept you and you’ll be left all alone, in danger.

We have to look deeply to identify the original, primal fear and desire that are behind so many of our behaviors. Every one of the fears and desires that you have today is a continuation of original fear and desire.

In this food I see clearly the presence of the entire universe supporting my existence.*

One of the first things we can do to soothe our fear is to talk to it. You can sit down with that fearful child inside and be gentle with him or her. You might say something like this: “Dear little child, I am your adult self. I would like to tell you that we are no longer a baby, helpless and vulnerable. We have strong hands and strong feet; we can very well defend ourselves. So there is no reason why we have to continue to be fearful anymore.”

Put down two cushions. First sit on one cushion and pretend you are the helpless, vulnerable child. You express yourself: “Dear one, I am very helpless. I cannot do anything. It’s very dangerous. I’m going to die; nobody is taking care of me.” You have to speak the language of the baby. And while you are expressing yourself like that, if the feelings of fear, hopelessness, stress, and helplessness come up, please allow them to come up and recognize them. Allow the helpless child enough time to express herself fully. This is very important. After she has finished, move to the other cushion to play the role of the adult self. As you look at the other cushion, imagine the helpless child is sitting there and talk to her: “Listen to me. I am your adult self. You are no longer a helpless child; we have grown up into an adult already. We have enough intelligence to protect ourselves, to survive by ourselves. We don’t need someone to take care of us anymore.” When you try this, you will see that the feeling of safety and security you want to feel doesn’t need to come from clinging to another person or from constantly distracting yourself. Acknowledging and soothing the fear within is the first step in letting it go. Understanding that we are now safe is essential for those of us who have suffered abuse, fear, or pain in our past. Sometimes we may need a friend, a brother, a sister, a teacher, to help us not fall back into the past. We have grown up. We’re now capable not just of d...

Some of us have depression and continue to suffer even if in the present situation everything looks all right. This is because we have a tendency to dwell in the past. We feel more comfortable making our home there, even if it holds a lot of suffering. That home is deep down in our subconscious, where the films of the past are always projected. Every night you go back and watch those films and suffer. And the future you constantly worry about is nothing other than a projection of fear and desire from the past.

Because it’s so easy to be caught in the past, it’s helpful to have a reminder to stay in the present. In Plum Village, we use a bell. When we hear the bell, we practice breathing in and out mindfully, and we say, “I listen to the bell. This wonderful sound brings me back to my true home.” My true home is in the here and now. The past is not my true home.

When we recognize that we have a habit of replaying old events and reacting to new events as if they were the old ones, we can begin to notice when that habit energy comes up. We can then gently remind ourselves that we have another choice. We can look at the moment as it is, a fresh moment, and leave the past for a time when we can look at it compassionately. We can make the time and space, not in a busy moment but in a quiet time, to tell the suffering, wounded child inside us that she doesn’t have to suffer anymore. We can take her hand and invite her to come into the present moment and witness all the wonders of life that are available here and now: “Come with me, dear one. We have grown up. We no longer need to be afraid. We are no longer vulnerable. We are no longer fragile. We don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

So I gave him an exercise to practice for one week: “Breathing in, I see myself as a five-year-old child. Breathing out, I smile to that five-year-old child.”

The little child inside you can suffer so much. When you were small, you were deeply affected by the decisions adults made around you. A child is very impressionable. Even before he or she is born, a child hears sounds and can distinguish shouting from singing. This is why, if you really care for your child, even when your child is not yet born, you will surround that child with love. Love should begin very early.

The five remembrances are: 1. I am of the nature to grow old. I cannot escape growing old. 2. I am of the nature to have ill health. I cannot escape having ill health. 3. I am of the nature to die. I cannot escape death. 4. All that is dear to me, and everyone I love, are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them. 5. I inherit the results of my acts of body, speech, and mind. My actions are my continuation. Looking deeply at each remembrance and breathing in and out with our awareness of each one, we engage our fear in an empowered way.

That is the first remembrance: “Breathing in, I know I am of the nature to grow old. Breathing out, I know I can’t escape growing old.” We are all afraid of getting old. We don’t want to think about it. We want that fear to stay peacefully down there, far away from us. This contemplation comes from the sutra in the Anguttara Nikaya III 70–71. Surely I will have to grow old. This is a truth that is universal and inevitable. But most of us don’t want to acknowledge it, so we live more or less in denial. Yet down deep in the recesses of our minds, we know it’s true. When we suppress our fearful thoughts, they continue to fester there in the dark. We are driven to consume (food, alcohol, movies, etc.) in an attempt to forget and keep those thoughts from surfacing in our conscious mind. Running away from our fear ultimately makes us suffer and makes others suffer, and our fear only grows stronger. We must be able to accept this as reality, as the truth, and not just as a logical fact. Reciting this remembrance is not mere restatement of the obvious but a chance to take in a truth that we need to experience directly. We can take a few moments to let that truth penetrate into our flesh and bones.

The Buddha taught that when we call up and get in touch with the truth that we cannot escape old age and death, our fear—and the foolish things we do to try not to feel it—will cease. We no longer act out our fears unconsciously and fuel the cycle that makes them grow ever stronger.

The second remembrance recognizes that sickness is a universal phenomenon: “Breathing in, I know I am of the nature to have ill health. Breathing out, I know I can’t escape having ill health.”

If we are in normal good health, we may think getting sick is for other people. We look down on others, saying they’re always getting sick from nothing at all; they have to take medicine and receive massage all the time. We think we’re not like them. But one day we will likely also fall sick. If we are not diligent in contemplating this reality now, then when that day suddenly comes upon us we won’t be able to handle it.

This is the third remembrance: “Breathing in, I know it is my nature to die. Breathing out, I know I can’t escape dying.” It’s a simple and true fact that you are reluctant to face. You want this fact to get lost, because you’re afraid. It’s painful for you to look deeply into it. Death is a reality that we have to confront. The subconscious mind is always trying to forget that, because when we touch that fear and we are not equipped with the energy of mindfulness, we suffer. Our defense mechanism pushes us to forget; we don’t want to hear about it. But in the back of our minds, the fear of death is always there, pushing on us. When we really face the fact that we will die one day (and maybe sooner than we think), we won’t embarrass ourselves doing ridiculous things, keeping up the delusion that we’re going to live forever. Contemplating our mortality helps us focus our energy into the practice of transforming and healing ourselves and our world.

This is the fourth remembrance: “Breathing in, I know that one day I will have to let go of everything and everyone I love. Breathing out, there is no way to bring them along.” Everything that I cherish today I will have to leave behind tomorrow, whether it is my house, my bank account, my children, or my beautiful partner. Everything that I cherish today, I will have to abandon. I cannot carry anything with me when I die. This is a scientific truth.

We can’t take anything or anyone else with us in our death. Yet every day we strive to accumulate more and more money, knowledge, fame, and everything else. Even when we reach sixty or seventy years of age, we keep grasping for more knowledge, money, fame, and power. We know that the mementos and belongings we covet must all be abandoned one day. That’s why those in monastic life practice not to collect things.

The fifth remembrance reminds us that when we die, the only things that continue us are our thoughts, words, and actions—that is, our karma. “Breathing in, I know that I bring nothing with me except my thoughts, words, and deeds. Breathing out, only my actions come with me.” All the thoughts you have thought, all the words you have spoken, all the actions you have done with your body—these are your karma that follows and continues you. Everything else you leave behind.

The practice of the five remembrances helps us accept many of our deepest fears—such as old age, sickness, and death—as realities, facts we cannot escape. When we practice accepting these truths, we can realize peace and have the capacity to live conscious, healthy, and compassionate lives, no longer causing suffering to ourselves and others. Invite your fear into consciousness, and smile through it; every time you smile through your fear, it will lose some of its strength. If you try to run away from your pain, there is no way out. Only by looking deeply into the nature of your fear can you find the way out. Contemplating the five remembrances, we bring mindfulness to the seed of fear in us. The seed of fear is there in us, and if we don’t practice embracing it with mindfulness, then every time these truths show themselves, we will feel very uncomfortable. Like ostriches that see a lion, we stick our heads in the sand. Using diversions like television, computer games, alcohol, and drugs, we try to ignore the realities of aging, illness, death, and the impermanence of the things we cherish. If we allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by our fears, we will suffer, and the seed of fear in us will grow stronger. But when we are mindful, we use the energy of mindfulness to embrace our fear. Every time fear is embraced by mindfulness, the energy of fear decreases before going back down to the depths of our consciousness as a seed.

Mindfulness is the opposite of this tendency. We must invite these things up into our mind consciousness every day and tell them, “My dear, I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of my fear. It is my nature to grow old; I cannot escape old age.” When fear manifests, we want to have the seed of mindfulness also manifest to embrace it. So we have two energies present—the first is the energy of fear, and the second is the energy of mindfulness. The fear receives a bath of mindfulness and becomes a little bit weaker before it drops back down to the depths of our consciousness in the form of a seed. Just because fear goes away for a little while doesn’t mean we have dissolved it completely. If we have a peaceful moment, a moment of meditation, we can call it up again. “My dear fear, come up here so I can embrace you for a while. It is my nature to die; I cannot escape death.” We can stay with our fear for five, ten, twenty, or thirty minutes, depending on our needs, and use the energy of mindfulness to embrace our fear. Being embraced like that every day, our fear will lose its strength.

The Buddha taught that there is no birth and no death. Our belief that these ideas about birth and death are real creates a powerful illusion that causes us a great deal of suffering. When we understand that we can’t be destroyed, we’re liberated from fear.

When I lost my mother, I suffered a lot. The day she died, I wrote in my journal, “The greatest misfortune of my life has happened.” I grieved her death for more than a year. Then one night, I was sleeping in my hermitage—a hut that lay behind a temple, halfway up a hill covered with tea plants in the highlands of Vietnam. I had a dream about my mother. I saw myself sitting with her, and we were having a wonderful talk. She looked young and beautiful, with her hair flowing down around her shoulders. It was so pleasant to sit and talk to her as if she had never died. When I woke up, I had a very strong feeling that I had never lost my mother. The sense that my mother was still with me was very clear. I understood then that the idea of having lost my mother was just that: an idea. It was obvious in that moment that my mother was still alive in me and always would be. I opened the door and went outside. The entire hillside was bathed in moonlight. Walking slowly in that soft light through the rows of tea plants, I observed that my mother was indeed still with me. My mother was the moonlight caressing me as she had so often done, very gentle, very sweet. Every time my feet touched the earth, I knew my mother was there with me. I knew this body was not mine alone but a living continuation of my mother and father, my grandparents and great-grandparents, and of all my ancestors. These feet I saw as “my” feet were actually “our” feet. Together my mother and I were leaving footprin...

When you lose a loved one, you suffer. But if you know how to look deeply, you have a chance to realize that his or her nature is truly the nature of no-birth, no-death. There is manifestation, and there is the cessation of manifestation in order to have another manifestation. You have to be alert to recognize the new manifestations of one person. But with practice and effort, you can do it. Pay attention to the world around you, to the leaves and the flowers, to the birds and the rain. If you can stop and look deeply, you will recognize your beloved manifesting again and again in many forms. You will release your fear and pain and again embrace the joy of life.

In everyday life, we tend to believe that happiness is only possible in the future. We’re always looking for the “right” conditions that we don’t yet have to make us happy. We ignore what is happening right in front of us. We look for something that will make us feel more solid, more safe, more secure. But we’re afraid all the time of what the future will bring—afraid we’ll lose our jobs, our possessions, the people around us whom we love. So we wait and hope for that magical moment—always sometime in the future—when everything will be as we want it to be. We forget that life is available only in the present moment. The Buddha said, “It is possible to live happily in the present moment. It is the only moment we have.”

When we practice breathing in and we say, “I have arrived,” and we really arrive, that is success. To be fully present, one hundred percent alive, is a real achievement. The present moment has become our true home. When we breathe out and say, “I am home” and we really feel at home, we no longer have to be afraid. We really don’t need to run anymore. We repeat this mantra, “I have arrived, I am home,” until it feels real. We repeat breathing in and out and taking steps until we are firmly established in the here and now. The words should not be an obstacle—the words only help you concentrate and keep your insight alive. It is the insight that keeps you home, not the words.

All of us are like that wave. We have our historical dimension. We speak in terms of beginning to be at a certain point in time, and ceasing to be at another point in time. We believe that we are now existing and that before our birth we did not exist. We get caught in these notions, and that is why we have fear, we have jealousy, we have craving, we have all these conflicts and afflictions within us. Now if we are capable of arriving, of being more solid and free, it will be possible for us to touch our true nature, the ultimate dimension of ourselves. In touching that ultimate dimension, we break free from all these notions that have made us suffer.

Imagine two astronauts go to the moon, and while they’re there, there’s an accident and their ship can’t take them back to Earth. They have only enough oxygen for two days. There is no hope of someone coming from Earth in time to rescue them. They have only two days to live. If you were to ask them at that moment, “What is your deepest wish?” they would answer, “To be back home walking on our beautiful planet Earth.” That would be enough for them; they wouldn’t want anything else. They wouldn’t think of being the head of a large corporation, a famous celebrity, or the president of the United States. They wouldn’t want anything but to be back here—walking on Earth, enjoying every step, listening to the sounds of nature, or holding the hand of their beloved while contemplating the moon at night. We should live every day like people who have just been rescued from dying on the moon. We are on Earth now, and we need to enjoy walking on this precious, beautiful planet. Zen Master Linji said, “The miracle is not to walk on water or fire. The miracle is to walk on the earth.”

Please take a moment to enjoy the simple practice of mindful breathing: “Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in; breathing out, I know that I am breathing out.” If you do that with a little concentration, then you’ll be able to really be there. The moment you begin to practice mindful breathing, your body and your mind begin to come back together. It takes only ten to twenty seconds to accomplish this miracle, the oneness of body and mind in the present moment. And every one of us can do it, even a child.

Suppose you watch one hour of television. That seems like very little, but you know there can be a lot of violence, a lot of fear, and a lot of poisons in that one-hour program. And you practice intoxicating yourself every day. You think you’re getting some kind of relief, but while entertaining yourself you continue to bring into the depths of your consciousness even more elements of pain and suffering. So the blocks of pain deep within you keep growing bigger and bigger. We intoxicate ourselves with what we consume every day.

“When the body arises, it arises. It does not come from anywhere. If conditions are sufficient, the body manifests, and you perceive it as existing. When the conditions are no longer sufficient, the body is not perceived by you, and you may think of it as not existing. In fact, the nature of everything is no-birth and no-death.” Anathapindika was a very capable practitioner. When he practiced to this point, he was moved and got insight right away. He was able to touch the dimension of no-birth and no-death. He was released from the idea that he was only his body. He released the notions of birth and death, the notions of being and nonbeing, and so was able to receive and realize the gift of nonfear.

This important practice, the practice of nonfear, involves looking deeply to relieve the deep fear that is always there. If you have nonfear, your life will be happier and more beautiful, and you will be able to help many other people, just as Shariputra helped Anathapindika. The energy of nonfear is the key and the best basis for social action, for actions of compassion that protect people, protect the earth, and satisfy your needs to love and to serve.

Every one of us has the capacity to be mindful, focused, understanding, and compassionate. That quality is inherent in everyone. You can call it Buddha nature. So when you say, “I take refuge in the Buddha,” you don’t mean that you take refuge in a kind of god that exists outside of you. It means that you have confidence in your capacity to understand and to love.

The practice of meditation offered by the Buddha has two parts: stopping and looking deeply. The first part of meditation is stopping. If you’re like most of us, since you were born, you’ve been running. Now it’s a strong habit that many generations of your ancestors also had before you and transmitted to you—the habit of running, being tense, and being carried away by many things, so that your mind is not totally, deeply, peacefully in the present moment. You get accustomed to looking at things in a very superficial way and being carried away by wrong perceptions and the negative emotions that result. This leads to behaving wrongly and making life miserable. The practice is to train yourself to stop—stop running after all these things.

With practice, you can release the tension and reduce the pain in your body, and you can recognize painful feelings inside, know how to embrace them, and release the tension in your feelings, bringing relief. You can create a feeling of joy and happiness whenever you want. With good practice, you will no longer be afraid of obstacles and difficulties. You will know how to cope with the difficulties that arise. With practice that is solid, there is no reason to be fearful anymore, because you have seen the path.

When a thought comes, you say hello, and then you say good-bye right away. When other thoughts come, just say hello and say good-bye again. Don’t fight. Don’t say, “Oh, I’m so bad, I think of so many things!” You don’t need to think like that. You just say hi and bye, relax and let go. You bring your mind to the present moment and rest in awareness of your body. It’s like soaking mung beans in water. You don’t need to force the water to enter the mung bean. You let the mung bean be in the water, and slowly, slowly it goes in. Gradually the mung bean gets saturated, swollen and tender.

When we have a strong emotion like fear or despair, it can be overwhelming. But with practice, we know we can learn how to embrace our fear, because we know that in each one of us there is the seed of mindfulness. If we practice touching that seed every day while walking, sitting, breathing, smiling, or eating, we cultivate that energy of mindfulness. And then anytime we need that energy, we just touch that seed, and right away the energy of mindfulness will come up and we can use it to embrace our emotions. If we succeed just once in doing so, we will have a little more peace and will be less afraid of that strong emotion the next time it comes up.

There are several simple methods for taking care of our strong emotions. One is “belly breathing,” breathing from the abdomen. When we are caught in a strong emotion like fear or anger, our practice is to bring our attention down to the abdomen. To stay on the level of the intellect is not safe. Strong emotions are like a storm, and to stand in the middle of a storm is very dangerous. Yet that’s what most of us do when we get upset; we stay out in the storm of our feelings, and they overwhelm us. Instead, we have to ground ourselves by bringing our attention downward. We focus on our abdomen and practice mindful breathing, just giving all of our attention to the rise and fall of the belly.

When you are overwhelmed by strong emotions, don’t stay there—it’s too dangerous. Bring your focus down to your navel—that is the trunk, the most solid part of yourself—and practice mindful breathing. Become aware of the rise and fall of your abdomen. Doing this in a stable position, such as the sitting position, you feel much better. Just breathe. Don’t think of anything. Breathe through the movement, the rise and fall, of your abdomen. Practice in this way for ten or fifteen minutes, and the strong emotion will pass on through.

When fear comes up and we’re upset and worried, the first thing we need to do is acknowledge that fear. We can recognize and embrace it rather than acting it out. All around us people are afraid and acting out of fear. In the midst of all this fear, we all long for peace and security.

The Buddha said, “I have looked deeply into the state of mind of unhappy people and have seen hidden under their suffering a very sharp knife. Because they don’t see that sharp knife in themselves, it is difficult for them to deal with suffering.” Your fear is buried deep in your heart, a sharp knife covered over by many layers. That sharp knife is what makes you behave in such an unkind way. You do not see the knife or the arrow in your heart, but it causes you to make other people suffer.

The United States of America has a very powerful military and the most advanced weapons in the world, but the American people don’t feel safe. They feel very afraid and vulnerable. So there must be something else—a way to take genuine refuge, so that we can really feel safe. We have to learn to build safety with our in-breath and our out-breath. We have to learn to build safety with our steps, with our way of acting and reacting, with our words and our efforts to build communication.

It’s so clear that police, armed forces, and even massive firepower can’t guarantee us real safety. Maybe the first thing we have to do is to say, “Dear friend, I am aware that you want to live in safety. I too want to live in safety, so why don’t we work together?”

Since the so-called war on terror began, we have spent billions of dollars but have only created more violence, hate, and fear. We have not succeeded in removing fear, hatred, and resentment, either in their outward expressions such as terrorism or, most importantly, in the minds of the people.

The most precious gift you can give to the one you love is your true presence. So the first mantra is very simple: “Dear one, I am here for you.”