The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times

by Pema Chödrön

Overwhelm is a sense of helplessness. We feel that there is so much suffering—whatever we do is to no av...

The third near enemy of compassion is idiot compassion. This is when we avoid conflict and protect our good image by being kind when we should say a definite “no.” Compassion doesn’t imply only trying to be good. When we find ourselves in an aggressive relationship, we need to set clear boundaries. The kindest thing we can do for everyone concerned is to know when to say “enough.” Many people use Buddhist ideals to justify self-debasement. In the name of not shutting our heart, we let people walk all over us. It is said that in order not to break our vow of compassion we have to learn when to stop aggression and draw the line. There are times when the only way to bring down the barriers is to set boundaries.

The near enemy of joyfulness is overexcitement. We can churn ourselves into a manic state and mistake riding high above the sorrows of the world for unconditional joy. Again, instead of connecting us with others, this separates us. Authentic joy is not a euphoric state or a feeling of being high. Rather, it is a state of appreciation that allows us to participate fully in our lives. We train in rejoicing in the good fortune of self and others. The far enemy of joy is envy.

If we feel distress, embarrassment, or anger, we think we’ve really blown it. Yet feeling emotional upheaval is not a spiritual faux pas; it’s the place where the warrior learns compassion. It’s where we learn to stop struggling with ourselves. It’s only when we can dwell in these places that scare us that equanimity becomes unshakable.

The far enemy of equanimity is prejudice. We get self-righteous about our beliefs and set ourselves solidly for or against others. We take sides. We become closed-minded. We have enemies. This polarization is an obstacle to the genuine equanimity that informs compassionate action.

Forgiveness, it seems, cannot be forced. When we are brave enough to open our hearts to ourselves, however, forgiveness will emerge.

“All activities should be done with one intention.” That intention is to realize our connection with all beings.

The third source of inspiration is the seed of goodness. That reservoirs of openness and tenderness are available to us is the strength of the positive seed, the seed of bodhichitta. Sometimes remembering our basic goodness takes a leap of faith. The trick is to connect with the soft spot that we already have.

The fourth strength is reproach. Reproach can be tricky because it backfires if there’s no maitri. Its strength is that if used with loving-kindness it will steer us away from debilitating habitual patterns. The gentlest method of reproach is to ask ourselves, “Have I ever done this before?” When we suspect that we’re turning away from the moment, we can say to ourselves as a reminder, “Does this way of acting or thinking feel familiar?”

Trungpa Rinpoche encouraged his students to be eccentric bodhisattvas and to give ego a hard time. He suggested that instead of listening to the radio or singing in the shower, we talk to our ego. “Okay, ego, you’ve been giving me problems for my entire life and now I’m getting a whole lot smarter. I’m not going to be under your sway for one more day!”

The point of reproach is to develop enough self-respect that when we catch ourselves getting hooked in familiar ways we can stop. We aren’t disciplining our badness; we’re simply getting smart about what brings suffering and what brings happiness. We’re finally giving ourselves a break.

The fifth strength is the strength that comes from aspiration. We may not yet feel ready to act, but even in very difficult situations, we can do something to help. We can aspire to arouse bodhichitta, to free ourselves from neurosis and be of benefit.

the six activities of the warrior: Generosity. Giving as a path of learning to let go. Discipline. Training in not causing harm in a way that is daring and flexible. Patience. Training in abiding with the restlessness of our energy and letting things evolve at their own speed. If waking up takes forever, still we go moment by moment, giving up all hope of fruition and enjoying the process. Joyful enthusiasm. Letting go of our perfectionism and connecting with the living quality of every moment. Meditation. Training in coming back to being right here with gentleness and precision. Prajna. Cultivating an open, inquiring mind. With these six activities of the bodhisattva, we learn how to travel to the other shore, and we do our best to take everyone we can find along with us.

The “secret” of life that we are all looking for is just this: to develop through sitting and daily life practice the power and courage to return to that which we have spent a lifetime hiding from, to rest in the bodily experience of the present moment—even if it is a feeling of being humiliated, of failing, of abandonment, of unfairness. —CHARLOTTE JOKO BECK

This has been the experience of everyone who ever set out on the path of awakening. All those smiling enlightened people you see in pictures or in person had to go through the process of encountering their full-blown neurosis, their methods of looking for ground. When we start to interrupt our ordinary ways of calling ourselves names and patting ourselves on the back, we are doing something extremely brave. Slowly we edge toward the open state, but let’s face it, we are moving toward a place of no handholds, no footholds, no mindholds. This may be called liberation, but for a long time it feels like insecurity.

THE MOST STRAIGHTFORWARD ADVICE ON awakening bodhichitta is this: practice not causing harm to anyone—yourself or others—and every day, do what you can to be helpful. If we take this instruction to heart and begin to use it, we will probably find that it is not so easy. Before we know it, someone has provoked us, and either directly or indirectly, we’ve caused harm. Therefore, when our intention is sincere but the going gets rough, most of us could use some help. We could use some fundamental instruction on how to lighten up and turn around our well-established habits of striking out and blaming.

These four methods are: 1. not setting up the target for the arrow, 2. connecting with the heart, 3. seeing obstacles as teachers, and 4. regarding all that occurs as a dream.

this is the first method: remember that we set up the target and only we can take it down. Understand that if we hold our seat when we want to retaliate—even if it’s only briefly—we are starting to dissolve a pattern of aggression that will continue to hurt us and others forever if we let it.

Second is the instruction for connecting with the heart. In times of anger, we can contact the kindness and compassion that we already have.

this is the second method: connect with the heart. Remember that the one who harms us does not need to be provoked further and neither do we. Recognize that, just like us, millions are burning with the fire of aggression. We can sit with the intensity of the anger and let its energy humble us and make us more compassionate.

Third is the instruction on seeing difficulties as teachers.

Right at the point when we are about to blow our top or withdraw into oblivion, we can remember this: we are warriors-in-training being taught how to sit with edginess and discomfort. We are being challenged to remain and to relax where we are. The problem with following these or any instructions is that we have a tendency to be too serious and rigid. We get tense and uptight about trying to relax and be patient.

This is where the fourth instruction comes in: it is helpful to think about the person who is angry, the anger itself, and the object of that anger as being like a dream.

When we find ourselves captured by aggression, we can remember this: there is no basis for striking out or for repressing. There is no basis for hatred or shame. We can at least begin to question our assumptions. Could it be that whether we are awake or asleep, we are simply moving from one dreamlike state to another?

The real function of a spiritual friend is to insult you. —CHÖGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE

When someone pushes our buttons, do we set out to make the person wrong? Or do we repress our reaction with “I’m supposed to be loving. How could I hold this negative thought?”

It’s important to hear about this in-between state. Otherwise we think the warrior’s journey is one way or the other; either we’re all caught up or we’re free. The fact is that we spend a long time in the middle. This juicy spot is a fruitful place to be. Resting here completely—steadfastly experiencing the clarity of the present moment—is called enlightenment.

May we clearly see all the barriers we erect between ourselves and others to be as insubstantial as our dreams.