Thank God for Fear at a Funeral

Squibs & Blurbs

by Jerry Zimmerman

TEANECK New Jersey—(Weekly Hubris)—7/25//11—I am at a small funeral service for a friend and I am afraid.

I am not afraid of the death of a friend; I am not afraid of my sadness.

I am afraid of talking to someone.

Actually, I am afraid of making a mistake and looking foolish.

The funeral is for a friend of my late wife, Rhona. She and Rhona originally met each other at Gilda’s Club, both being in the unenviable sisterhood of women having ovarian cancer. They became close friends, with Rhona leading the way as a mentor and advisor to her somewhat more bewildered friend. I was also involved in their relationship, though as a minor partner.

Even after Rhona passed away, almost three years ago, I still tried to keep in touch, but with ever-diminishing success.

And now, here I am at the friend’s funeral, sitting in the back, wishing to honor her life and friendship and wanting my presence here to give a drop of comfort to her mother. However, I have only met her mother once, years ago, and I’m not sure which of the older women sitting up front is she.

Now I am having that inner fear dialogue: Do I take a chance on offering my condolences to the wrong woman? Do I ask someone who her mother is? Do I chicken out and just sit dumbly through the service?

Good Lord, how much of an idiot can I be? How can my fear of a small faux pas trump the Big Idea of being of some comfort and support to the family?

Thankfully, I am old enough to be an adult and wave these thoughts aside with a small flick of my mind. I tap the woman in front of me, find out who the mother is, and quickly go to speak with her, the primary reason for my attending the service.

I am stunned to have experienced this conflict.

The idea of our actions in life being constantly regulated and manipulated by all sorts of underlying and barely perceptible fears is certainly not a new idea to me. Yet, this whole personal dilemma unfolded before me as if I were a member of the audience at a play. I was mesmerized . . . and appalled.

Yet, I realized that I had been handed a beautiful gift, a deepened awareness of that demonic Muzak of fear that constantly runs in the background of my life. And it is amazing to know that the fear of the small and mundane is almost as powerful as real fear, the fear of death, the fear of pain—and probably much more insidious.

The first defense against these ruinous fears is simply to see them in action and get a good nose-full of their sulfurous connivings. Once their odors are ingrained in my unconscious mind, the slightest whiff of them startles me and raises my hackles—it’s me against them! These social and emotional ingrained bullies want what they want, depriving me of the freedom to live in the moments of my life.

I’ve discovered the almost addictive pleasure of calmly facing these fears, treating them not as alarming challenges but rather as invigorating opportunities to stand up straight with a clear mind and act as I deem necessary. The simple decision not to give them any power turns into everyday courage.

I’m certain my many years of training in the martial art of Aikido has given me the footing for these actions, and I am referring particularly to what is perhaps the most mysterious aspect of Aikido: the basic tenet of not agreeing to fight in the first place.

“Well, how can that possibly work?,” you and just about everybody else asks.

Conflict—mental, physical or emotional—can only happen when both parties are involved.

The idea that you can decide not to participate seems patently ridiculous at first. It takes training, experience and a shift in your consciousness to realize, if someone is attacking you, you have a choice in the matter.

At this point, I’m sure you have an image of someone trying to whack you in the head and you deciding not to do anything . . . and then you really get whacked in the head!

However, you decide on a different action rather than a reaction or no action.

You decide to do what you wish to do—in this case, you would move somewhere safe where you have learned to redirect the confrontation to follow your wishes. You are no longer in a fight, as there is NO fight.

There is no need to get into an explication of how this training works. The basic idea is to not fight your fears, not to be compelled to pour your energy into those particular buckets full of holes but, rather, to gather your energy and simply and firmly point it in a new direction.

I value this clear, powerful idea of calmly ignoring the attack as I walk in a new direction. Those literal or figurative first steps are the beginning of a new relationship—to my fears and to my life.

Take a chance and just do it. Ferret out one of those little fears biting at your ankles. Shake it off and strut away.

I dare you.