Someone asked me this week if I have people sign waivers for my classes that include physical activity. When I said, “No” she naturally wanted to know why. My answer was this:
“Most of the danger is within.”
In my life, I have long been running toward danger. Running toward that which I fear, that which will force me to expand, will challenge me, will bust up my life and reshape it in a new way. Over time I grew strong enough, and supple enough, that the reshaping looked gentler, and less like the toppling of a great tower than the raising up of a beautiful new city. The city is my life, my soul, my relationships, my Work. The city is my Self.
Fear is natural, and often a helpful teacher. It can keep us from the sort of danger that will end in trauma. But sometimes we listen far too much to fear and certainly to worry. I repeat over and over that everything is about relationship and that all relationships entail risk. Are we going to risk the results of numbing and swaddling our souls? Or are we going to risk that which is barely known, that which the soul reaches for?
I am fortunate to have some on the ground training in non-violent intervention. At a certain point, I realized that I had re-trained my instincts to run toward the sounds of fighting rather than away. That was the only way I could ascertain whether or not I could be of help, whether or not it was any of my business, whether or not the right thing to do was to interpose my body or my voice between one person and another. I’ve stopped large men with weapons, and teens choking each other over drug money, a grown man threatening his elderly mother, and a beating on a dark street at night.
Learning to do this for others helped strengthen me to do this for myself. Part of me has always run toward the danger of gnosis and toward the difference that would set me apart from most of my peers growing up. Yet, fearing interpersonal conflict, I would shrink away from my own defense. Parts of me would always resist, would try to constrict into a ball and hide in avoiding conflict, or not hurting someone’s feelings, or trying to be a little less bright than I was. This did not serve my soul, though it taught me lessons I hope to never forget.
Self-preservation is a good thing, but not when it comes at a price so high we barely can comprehend it. What is the self we are trying to protect and preserve? Is it the self that has the best interests of our brave souls at heart? Or is it the self that lives in worry and fear that wants to protect us from our brilliance, our power, and our glorious beauty?
The people who inspire me all have run toward danger. They have all been willing to take the risks that form art, that seek justice, that shape the spirit in breathtaking ways. They have risked the silence of meditation. They have risked the exposure of asking for what they really want. They have risked stating an opinion, or standing up for a deep belief. They have traveled the world, seeking the mystery, or they have stayed at home in prayer and study. They have danced around fires. They have fed children. They have sat down, arms linked, in front of riot police. They have written poems and sung songs and painted canvas. They have spoken out. They have looked their demons in the eye. They have done the work to grow toward wisdom. They have grown into themselves: fully present, fully sacred, fully alive.
(Photo is from EPA and can be found in this article.)
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How beautiful a way of speaking what needs to me heard!
That was the only way I could ascertain whether or not I could be of help, whether or not it was any of my business, whether or not the right thing to do was to interpose my body or my voice between one person and another.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the role that discernment plays, and needs to play, in Pagan groups and communities. Christians often talk about discernment, generally meaning attempting, through prayer, to determine God’s will for them in any given situation. It’s odd that we Pagans, who have any number of means of accessing our own Divinity, including trance, meditation, and divination, sometimes don’t stop to exercise discernment before acting, speaking out, criticizing. We sometimes err on the side of “being authentic” rather than figuring out: Is what I’m about to say likely to be helpful? Is it needed? At what time? To whom? In what manner?
Yes, running towards the situation, in order to get all the facts, is an important part of discernment. And in the situations you describe, deciding whether it was any of your business, or the right thing to do, to get involved likely had to be a very quick decision. Discernment on the run.
But I’d like to see more Pagans begin to focus on and discuss how, when, and why we exercise, or don’t exercise, discernment.
Lovely picture.
That is beautiful, Thorn.
Hecate, once again, we are in agreement. Critical thinking and discernment are both important and powerful tools that are often left in the toolbox. It takes practice to discern at all, let alone on the run, in the moment. Daily practice is still something that many Pagans resist, to our detriment and to the detriment of our communities, because unless we exercise our tools on a regular basis, we just can’t use them effectively when they are really needed.
For me, fear (and response to perceived danger) are like pain. I was a dancer for a long long time and often had to notice the difference between good pain – muscles working hard getting better at something or doing something new, and bad pain – strain, injury, warning sign to STOP, STOP NOW, THIS COULD GET BAD.
When my gods and guides lead me toward an alternative that scares the crap out of me, I have to look at that fear and ask what kind of fear is this? Is it the kind the warns me of actual danger and keeps me from breaking important things, or is this a different kind of fear? A fear that says “AGGHHH UNKNOWN, SCARY… PROBABLY!” That second type of fear is noise. It still feels scary, but eventually you get to the point where it evens out – it becomes more scary to not move forward toward the work that is calling you, even though the outcome seems impossible to know.
[...] this works, or what might happen – rather than “I know…” I’ve written in the past about running toward danger. This practice has enlarged my strength, my ability to learn, and even my heart. Yes. I risk more [...]
Thorn, I just wanted to let you know that I linked to this post in my recent post on Pagan+Politics, “The Legacy of 9/11: Thoughts on the “Ground Zero Mosque,” Burning the Qur’an, and the Buddhist Floating Lantern Ceremony” – http://politics.pagannewswirecollective.com/?p=913
I would very much like to hear your take on what I wrote, so I hope you make your way over there to read it and maybe leave a response. Your words here on this blog continue to be a real inspiration to me. Thank you.
Lovely piece of writing. Thanks.
There is so much I could say, but the simple, and profound capitalied “Thank You” will suffice where a longer comment might not.
I particularly loved “running towards gnosis -vs- being a little less bright to be more safe” idea. That described a recent conversation I had with a good friend, and a longer argument with myself, exactly.
Thanks for some clarity and perspective!
I find it comforting that many of the people who wrote in with opposing thoughts and opinions, did so in such a judgemental and authoritive way.
[...] every morning. We have to decide to risk rejection in order to be more fully loved and loving. Something in us has to run toward the fight.Once we reach that point, we have access to more help. An energy begins to stabilize within us, that [...]