When Fear Comes

Weekly wisdom to find home in 3 minutes, or less.

A SHORT STORY

I took a run by the water this past Saturday and used it as an opportunity to listen to a Dharma talk.

There, I heard a story about the origin of the Metta practice in Buddhism, often known as loving-kindness meditation.

In the story, a group of monks and nuns were meditating with the Buddha. They went out into the forests to practice, and at night they grew frightened by the sounds of wild animals and other unknown things.

They came running back and said, “What do we do? It’s so scary out there.”

And the Buddha said, “Let me give you a practice that will help you deal with the kinds of fears that arise.” This was the origin of Metta practice in Buddhism.

As I ran along the water listening to the story, I saw the ducks in front of me and thought of how that jungle is now our news cycle.

And how important it is to find a place of refuge, much in the same way you and I do with this newsletter each week.

What surprised me, though, was how practicing loving-kindness was originally designed to protect us from the fears that arise.

As you go about your week, I hope that when a fear arises in you, you can find a place to practice loving-kindness, to tend and care for your own heart.

A POEM

“The Little Duck” by Donald Babcock

Now we’re ready to look at something pretty special.
It is a duck,
riding the ocean a hundred feet beyond the surf.
No it isn’t a gull.
A gull always has a raucous touch about him.
This is some sort of duck,
and he cuddles in the swells.

He isn’t cold,
and he is thinking things over.
There is a big heaving in the Atlantic,
and he is a part of it.

He looks a bit like a mandarin,
or the Lord Buddha meditating under the Bo tree.

But he has hardly enough above the eyes
to be a philosopher.
He has poise, however,
which is what philosophers must have.

He can rest while the Atlantic heaves,
because he rests in the Atlantic.

Probably he doesn’t know how large the ocean is.
And neither do you.
But he realizes it.

And what does he do, I ask you?
He sits down in it!
He reposes in the immediate as if it were infinity
– which it is.
He has made himself a part of the boundless
by easing himself into just where it touches him.

I like the duck.
He doesn’t know much,
but if only I could listen
He teaches me all I need to know.

Grateful,

Michael