When confronting fear of the future
When confronting fear of the future, we can remember that the one thing it will reliably not be is what we imagine.
One of my earliest memories is getting up really early morning and deciding that I was going to make Mom and Dad breakfast—do something nice for them. I was seriously like two or three; I don’t think my sister was even around yet, which would mean I was two. Of course I made an unholy mess, and easily could have burned the house down. Rather than the rapturous appreciation I expected, I was in deep shit. I can remember dad made it really clear how much trouble I was in, and they started cleaning up. Afraid of what I was in for, I quickly decided to go hide. I literally hid under my bed, not yet being hip to that being the most obvious thing in the world. I was under there for what seemed like an eternity—who knows how long it actually was. I could hear mom and dad calling for me, acting increasingly concerned at their inability to find me. At first, I was very satisfied with myself at hiding so well; gradually I started to feel bad for mom and dad. Of course they knew where I was, but they wanted to teach me something more important than not to fuck with the stove. Eventually, I emerged, ready to accept whatever was coming my way. But instead of punishment, I got picked up and given the biggest hug I’ve ever gotten from my dad. I was completely shocked, and didn’t understand at first. I didn’t really understand for a long time, but I never forgot.
That’s probably when I first started learning that things are never what you think they’re going to be. I’m enough of a glass-half-empty person that things are almost never worse than I imagine them ahead of time. Eventually I learned that I could cope with anxiety by reminding myself of this truth. In fact, things that I dread (this is often true of social events) frequently turn out to be awesome, and I actually end up glad about them. I’ve had it said to me that what I do—contemplating worst case scenarios—doesn’t really “serve me,” but I absolutely believe it does. It’s pretty nice having a fair degree of confidence that I’ve already imagined an outcome worse than what will actually happen. I’m able to face things with more confidence than I think I would otherwise have.
As my dharma and meditation practice teaches me to contemplate death, and not to wait until its at the door to start getting as accustomed to the idea as possible, I keep this truth in mind. At 45, I feel sometimes like I can actually feel the death process under way in my body, but of course that’s just wooly woolsey. But it is a feeling, and I think anyone over 40 knows what I’m talking about. But of course when it really approaches, or when I’m caught out by surprise by a sudden catastrophe, I know it will be impossibly different from anything I’ve imagined, and in a way, worse. But in a way, not. Everything is like that.