– K.S. Ahluwalia
Paradoxically, being born, living, and dying are our destiny. Is fear to be my constant companion till eternity? The Sikh perspective is to rid oneself of fear, so that you can find its depth. Sometimes, fear is not deep but extremely shallow!
Allow me to share an anecdote: A man walking at night slipped and fell from a rocky path. Afraid, he thought he would fall thousands of feet because he knew that just at the edge of the path was a very deep valley. In his panic, he grabbed hold of a branch that was overhanging the edge. In the darkness of night, he could see below him a bottomless abyss. He shouted, and his shout echoed back — but no one was there to hear him.
Can you imagine his never-ending torture through that long, dark night? Every moment, there was death below him, his hands becoming cold, losing his grip, yet he managed to hold on. But when the sun finally came up, he looked down, and his being erupted in laughter!
There was no abyss; just six inches below his feet was a rock ledge. He could have rested the whole night, slept well, as the ledge was big enough. But instead, the whole night for him had been a traumatic nightmare.
From my personal experience, I can say with certainty that fear is never more than six inches deep. Now, it’s up to us whether we want to keep clinging to the branch and turn our life into a nightmare or whether we will willingly let go of the branch to stand on our own two feet. Because there is nothing to fear.
Fear is nothing more than misunderstanding and accepting the insecurities of life—insecurities that are not real. It is non-substantial, like one’s shadow—negative; and many times, it creates a great impact on us. For example, in a jungle when night approaches, one may become frightened by one’s own shadow, running wild thinking it is something else—like a rope mistaken for a snake. But when reality dawns, we laugh heartily at our own foolishness and share the story excitedly with our loved ones.
Yet, most of us are afraid of fear because it shakes our foundations to the core. When fear strikes, it turns into a nightmare, and its after-effects can last for a long time. Chemical reactions in the body, such as perspiration, heavy breathing, tears, and hot flushes, are common. If this persists over time, a dichotomy within one’s being and existence occurs. One starts doubting oneself for everything and looks for excuses to blame others. This creates a yearning for sympathy, and one becomes a great storyteller, positioning oneself as a victim.
Amusingly, we are afraid of the unknown. The thought that we may lose whatever little happiness we have collected—our acquisitions, social prestige, status—seems to be slipping away as we move forward. So, we cling, and devise ways to protect it. We have built our houses on these acquisitions, which were once the bridge we needed to cross. We begin to live there—our thoughts get fixated, and we consider that place as Utopia, as bliss. A great resistance is formed to moving forward because doing so means leaving behind everything we have now.
Hence, we often say, “Let the time come—when I am old, when death is at hand, when all I have begins to drop, only then will I move forward. At that point, I will have nothing left to lose, nothing to worry about.” Yet, the closer we are to death, the tighter our grip becomes. As death approaches, we close our fists more tightly. Observe most older people; they are living examples of what misery looks like. They are paranoid, afraid that what they have been holding for so long is slipping away, and they become extremely possessive and defensive.
At this juncture, they should be blossoming with ecstasy, beauty, grace—simply unmatched. One may observe beautiful children and young people, but beautiful old people are a rarity. Remember, freedom is beautiful, while attachment is slavery.
Now, let’s examine what fear is all about: Fear is born from ignorance of one’s own self. One fear—countless manifestations! Deep inside, I may not be. Interestingly, it’s true in a way that I am not. Godliness is, I am not. The host is not; the guest is. And because I am suspicious—and my suspicion is valid—I hesitate to look within. Instead, I go on pretending that I am, even though I know that if I look within, I may discover that I am not. A shocking paradox!
It is not intellectual; it is existential. It resides deep within me, in my very guts—the feeling that “I may not be.” It’s better not to look within, so I keep looking out. At least it keeps me fooled, and the illusion intact that “I am.” But because this feeling of “I am-ness” is false, it creates fear. I know that anything could destroy it—a deep encounter with love, a serious disease, or witnessing someone’s death. It is fragile, yet I continue managing it by avoiding the internal inquiry.
Sikh ethos shifts the goalposts on what fear is all about. Instead of seeking ways to resolve fear, it talks about putting fear into fear—it’s not problem-solving, it’s giving what creates the problem a bigger problem, such that the concept of the problem disappears and dissolves entirely.
Whenever the Masters faced a hostile event, there were no justifications made, no excuses invented, no sympathy sought. There was no trembling or dissonance in their thoughts. The issue was faced and dealt with fairly, squarely. The next logical step was moving forward.
There was a complete harmony in their thoughts, actions, and being. They weren’t tense, nor were they dodging the situation. They met it openly with poise, grace, innocence, and centeredness. No amount of threats or coercion could have affected them. They were immersed in their eternity—where nothing is out of place, where everything is in place, and there is room for everything. They were spontaneous, with an inner understanding of how to be one with the inner nature of life.
They had expanded within—faith expands, and it simply becomes more powerful. Then there are no twos left. It is awareness, not specialized knowledge. As Dr. Sir Mohd. Iqbal said:
“ਗੁਜ਼ਰ ਜਾ ਅੱ ਕਲ ਸੇ ਆਗੇ ਕੀਯਹ ਨੂਰ ਚਰਾਗੇ – ਰਾਹ ਹੈ – ਮੰਨਿਜਲ ਨਹੀਂ”
Our ten Gurus have repeatedly demonstrated that we should get on with the situation as it is, take the jump. You are already on the diving board—don’t just stand there. Move, jump, face the situation. Desist from making excuses. An ocean of bliss is waiting for you.
The sun is hot, the heat intense, you are sweating, and the cool ocean is rolling below. You can, of course, take a jump and be in the cool waters. But you are fixated on the diving board, sweating in the sun. The board is ready to bounce you, and the cool ocean is waiting. But you remain there, sweating.
The real harm isn’t the misery from the heat; it’s the reality that this misery is a product of your indecisiveness. If you choose to suffer, then choose it willingly.
It is important to make a decision and choose in the now, with full authority and responsibility. Be a true Sikh of the Guru.
Without decisiveness, I will simply drift, pushed here and there by society, fragmented, fractured, and confused to the core. If I stay indecisive, the state of unconsciousness will grow more condensed.
