Honesty and Fear

 "I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality." ~ Martin Luther King, Jr. 

  

Listen live to The Frontier Beyond Fear Blog Talk Radio program Saturday at 1 PM PDT/4 PM EDT:  Honesty and Fear  (The program will be available at the same link afterwards, too).

How is being fearful related to honesty?  How can fear not only impact what people share with us, but how we accept the information, and how we share things ourselves?  How can we be more discerning by becoming more aware of our own relationship with fear? 

What is the distinction between discretion and dishonest omission?  We can still be discreet and authentic, in appropriate circumstances.  How can we honor this in others and in ourselves? 

How can we come to understand that all paths to authenticity are essentially a lifelong journey?  We can realize we are imperfect, even while increasing our conscious intent to be authentic and empathic. 

Greater awareness can help us, in every way, as well as respect for ourselves and one another.  This also leads to more courage, which can help us immensely. 

When we are intimidated or disabled by fear, we are unable to see things with clarity.  This can often lead to harmful or hasty choices, for ourselves and our societies. 

What is a better path forward?  How can we discover it?  Host Susan Larison Danz reflects on these important topics.  It is very likely she will also introduce another passage from history or literature as a part of the exploration.

The Frontier Beyond Fear is in its 11th year, with over 400 episodes.

 

Forest Path photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Courage and Clarity

"So is the danger a danger still; so is the fear worse." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Listen to today's broadcast of The Frontier Beyond Fear program here, now available in the archive:  Courage and Clarity

How do we work with our fears so we can find greater clarity?  We reflect on why this is so very important for our unfolding paths.  When we allow our fears to dominate our thoughts and decisions, not only is life unpleasant - we are unable to make clear, productive and authentic choices.  Why is Spirituality at the Center of finding our way?  It has everything to do with Clarity.  But it will ask something from us:  Courage - even as Spirituality is our greatest Resource in finding it.  What greater Resource could we have than our awareness of and conscious relationship with the omnipresent Divine?  Once we discover expansive, open, honest and authentic routes to Clarity, we will also find within us the Courage to freely explore our paths forward. 

A brief passage on fear and exploration written by Ralph Waldo Emerson in 1837 is shared during the program.

 

 

 

Sunglasses in the Dark

"Fear always arrives with an 'opt out' option." ~ Susan Larison Danz

A number of years ago, this guidance came to me in a time when I really needed to hear it:  Dwelling in fear is like wearing sunglasses in the dark.  Take them off and behold the Dawn.

Sunglasses are so very stylish these days at night, and have been for a while.  

How is wearing them helping? 

Note:  I will be broadcasting live at 1 PM PDT/4 PM EDT on The Frontier Beyond Fear Blog Talk Radio program on Saturday.  Listen here:  Courage and Clarity  

Mt. Hood Dawn photo by Susan Larison Danz.

 

Spiritual Courage

"Courage is knowing what not to fear." ~ Plato

I admit it.  I'm not as brave as I'd like to be.  I'm talking about this thing I seem to have spontaneously labeled "Spiritual Courage".

What is it, exactly?  Can I meaningfully express it?

I could say it has to do with authenticity, and it does, but that's not quite it.  That's not what I'm getting at today.

What I'm getting at could have to do with spiritual experiences, but that's not how I'm using the term.  That is not to say exploring spirituality itself is generally a timid exercise - it's not.  But that's not what I'm talking about today.

We aren't bold enough, in the ways we need to be, and I'm talking about being bold about being a spiritual person.

I had an encounter with a neighbor yesterday, as I was getting my mail, and we were talking about Covid and isolation.  She commented on how (not quite recalling what word she used) "chipper" I am.  Yes, I think she used the word "chipper".  (She could tell, even under my mask.) I told her I'm not that way all of the time, but I do appreciate my simple life.  She spoke of how this isolation can get a person down sometimes.  And then I found a bit of courage, the kind of courage I'm talking about, but not in a "pushy" way.  This isn't about proselytizing - it's more about honesty.  I said that mindfulness really helps me.  First I used that gentle word.  And then I went a step farther and said that I'm a spiritual person, and I think I may have even said that I'm a very spiritual person (Did I really say "very"?), and then I realized afterwards there are about a gazillion ways that could be interpreted, with a gazillion labels.

I wasn't talking about labels.  What I was attempting to express is actually quite simple.  Spirituality is an integral part of my life.  And yet it takes courage to be honest about that, these days.  In some ways, if I look back honestly, it's always been important, or at least my curiosity about it.  But I'm not looking back right now.  I'm talking about Now.  In this moment Now, it's important.  It has made every bit of difference in my day to day life and gives me astonishing peace.  Am I always at peace?  Of course not.  But when I compare the peace of my life now to the more worrisome self I used to be (yes, I still do worry sometimes), it makes a huge difference.

And it's not only that.  We need to be more open about Spirituality.  I used to be able to do it in the discussion forums - I could write reams and reams and reams of Spiritual material in those days - under a pseudonym.  And I suppose I had my radio show (which, oddly, I almost forgot about), but it kind of got afield of what I had intended originally.  It was thought to be one of the best independent spiritual podcasts around, and it's not over yet.  But I found I tended to "agree" too much when I would have preferred a lively discussion.  Not always, but too often.  It was never intended to be an infomercial, yet sometimes it felt that way.

Spiritual courage expresses itself openly.  Perhaps I diminish it by suggesting it is necessarily dogmatic, that there would be anything to "agree" about at all, if we are talking about an experience of peace.  It's not just an experience of peace.  It's an experience of feeling very Loved.  Divine Love is like that.  Omnipresent Love is like that.  People often feel awkward talking about such things.  Heck, I used to call in on national radio and openly express these things.  Do I really feel I'm not courageous?

But I'm talking about this moment.  This moment.  Now.  You see, because people don't understand Spirituality, especially lately.  There is this tendency to suggest it is damaging, or label it as "contrary to science" (which it's not, not real science) or whatever.  It's taking more and more courage these days to speak up and say, boldly, that Spirituality is not a "threatening" concept.  It is absolutely the opposite.  It is more than "mindfulness", though that is how I gingerly stepped into the concept with my neighbor.  I wasn't attempting to convince her or even describe it - I was just stating a fact.  I'm not even sure the term "mindfulness" applies to me.  I do know "mindfulness" experts who could give you many steps.  That wouldn't be me.  

It's a way of life.

It's a way of BEING.

And I feel that it's IMPORTANT.

And you see, there's the courage part, as now I am appearing to say:  Not just for me.  (Of course not, but in this particular case, I'm talking about my own experience - many people have this experience, so let's be clear, I'm not saying they don't.)

We NEED more of it.  Not less.  And that is my concern.  Like it's somehow not "logical" to pursue (and I feel it's actually the opposite), or that it is even harmful (nothing could be farther from the truth).  I see it being boxed up and labeled and diminished and disparaged these days, by so-called "skeptics".  And it isn't quite what people tend to think, not at the center of it.  Oh yes, it can be many, many things, and perhaps I'll get into some of them at some point, but I'm not talking about that.

The Center.  What is it?

You FEEL it.  It HELPS.  We need MORE of this, not less.  That's what I'm saying.

And I suppose by saying it, I'm being just a little bit more courageous.  And I sense that is a very good thing.  If you want to know the truth, it is entirely logical, what this is.  So if you think that it isn't, that's a misunderstanding.  Oh yes, it's mysterious as well, in fact, entirely miraculous.  (Yet what is a "miracle"?)  I feel there will come a time when more and more of us will realize that there is much, much more to this world than meets the eye.  And when we look at it, we are even able to do so analytically.  It is not unintelligent.  It is not ignorant.  It is not denial of reality.  It is not any of these things.  It can even be provable.  If you want to know the truth, I will tell you what it is, whether you believe me, or not, because I've found my courage.  What it is...It is REAL.  To see it is to see.  But a person generally must be willing to look.

 

 

Blue Skies photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Daring to Look

 “And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes.” ~ Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

 

We are often told not to "look".  We are told this is "better" and "for our own good."  But we actually do need to look, and we need to do it more often.

My dinner is cooking (again).  The Planets just started on Classical radio.  Once again, that is perfect.  This part, the first part, reminds me of Rome.  Now, there's a place and a time to look back to.  

Rome rose.  And Rome fell.  

Dare we look?

The piece is very discordant in this particular part, highly forceful and dramatic.  

Now it's becoming more mysterious, and more open.  

That's Spirituality.  That's Beauty.

Do we notice it?

We want to better understand how the darkness originates.  It's unhealthy to deny it.

But far too often, there are those who will tell us not to look for the Light.  "It isn't there," they say, "so don't bother."  

But when you look for it, let me tell you, you will find it.  

Dare to look.

 

 

Sunset photo by Susan Larison Danz

The Walk of Life

"The longer I live, the more my mind dwells upon the beauty and the wonder of the world."
~ John Burroughs

I was delayed and came upon them.  Perfect timing, as usual.  Like me, they were enjoying this beautiful October day.  It didn't matter that they came to the path with their wheelchairs and their walkers.  We all arrive with our encumbrances.  

They stayed on the path much longer than I did.  They made their way to the water and lingered.  I passed them as I returned.  They were posing for a picture.

And then I noticed this, a little ways from the beginning.

Encumbrances, released.

Roller coaster

"It was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it." 

~ The Grandmother in the movie Parenthood

When I was a child, what was said to be one of the best roller coasters in the nation was only about 20 minutes away, though I had no way of knowing that fact at the time.  The legendary Mr. Twister.  My older sister somehow smuggled me on the ride at the age of 4 or 5, though that wasn't particularly wise.  It was her first time on the ride too.  She recalls being terrified, and she was quite certain her little sister was going to fly right out of the seat (as she was feeling much the same), and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

Sometimes feels like that long ago, sometimes feels like yesterday.

I remember that day, only to a point.  I don't remember much of being on the ride itself, except perhaps a distant memory of rising into the air, as if to fly away (and perhaps I almost did!).  One would think I would have been terrified, as this was quite a serious adventure, not child's play at all (a particular scene in Fatal Attraction comes to mind!).  But then again, I was quite a bold and precocious little child, always seeking adventures way ahead of my years.  Being the youngest by far in a large family can have that effect.

Something I do remember is how I felt after the ride, dazed to be sure, not crying and perhaps just a little bit sick, but what I recall most of all was this improbable, compelling desire to get on the ride again.

When the day came many years later when I was actually old enough to meet the height requirements, I would experience Mr. Twister again and again and again.  I couldn't get enough of the thing, despite the lengthy wait in line.  I seemed to get a secret delight from surprising friends with my unlikely personality, seemingly sheltered and tentative on the surface (often very true!), with a surprisingly bold and daring streak below.

Mr. Twister was rickety and loud.  You always swore the thing would fly apart altogether at any time.  As you slowly, slowly, slowly ascended the first hill, the steady clinking, clinking, clinking in the background, a tinge of regret was not uncommon.  Locked in now for every aspect of the ride, you actually knew not all of it was going to be entirely pleasant (some of the twists were rather brutal on one's neck!), but you had made the choice, and there was no going back.  Some people would leave the line at the last moment, but I was never one of those.  I was in for the duration.

At the top of the first hill, there was an astonishingly beautiful view, despite the nagging fear of the height.  You had only an instant to enjoy it.  Then a very tiny little drop, gentle as could be.  Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.  It was a hill that soon followed which took your breath away, the one I somehow managed to survive at the age of 4 or 5, because you always rose out of the seat on that one, at any age.  I loved and feared the terror and exhilaration of that particular hill.  I think it was the only reason I went on the ride at all. The twists and turns after were just something to be endured until I managed to jump in the line again.

I don't ride roller coasters anymore, not at amusement parks anyway. Though tame compared to modern rides, knowing its unique allure, they tried to rebuild Mr. Twister in a brand new location, where the imitation model exists today.  I might step on that ride again some day, just to glimpse the original, but I can't imagine it could ever be captured in quite the same way.

The Depths

And though I attempted to evade it, here is what was really on my heart to write tonight...(even better, it's now the next day, so I can post two blog entries, two days in a row...)

"How inappropriate to call this planet Earth when it is quite clearly Ocean." 

~ Arthur C. Clarke

How often do we find ourselves splashing around in shallow waters, like children playing a game, when we are fully capable of exploring the hidden depths of the sea?  The shallows have their place of course, yet I yearn to know the depths.

I have toyed with this notion of learning to swim all of my life.  I used to be so afraid of the water, I avoided walking by the deep end of a pool.

I just happened to go to one of the only high schools in my city with a pool, a kind of curse for people like me.  In earlier days, they used to force every gym student to learn how to swim (an unpleasant memory of one of my sisters).  By the time I got to the school, you could take Dance class instead, so I managed to dance my way out of the requirement (though not the most coordinated, I actually enjoyed that quite a bit).

Most terrors are born in childhood when our trust is torn away.  I remember floating in a Colorado lake, right at the edge of the mountains at the age of 6 (Soda Lake it was called - I was told anyone could float in Soda Lake, and I believed them).  Not from a swimming family, a neighbor took us out one day.  It was absolutely wonderful, I recall, not frightening at all, floating looking up at crystal Colorado skies above.

Another day that summer, we went to a pool instead.  Soon I was floating again.  Then taken by surprise, someone splashed me with water and pushed me under (perhaps it was an accident, I feared it was a bully).   I can't really remember all that happened next, but I know it was scary.  No, I didn't drown (obviously!), though I thought I might.  I don't think the water was actually that deep.  But for whatever reason (and I always did have breathing issues), that was it.  One violation of trust and that was all it took.  I still occasionally splashed in shallow pools, but I didn't dare to float, not for many years.

In high school, ironic as it seems, I was a swim team assistant, though I escaped the pool in Gym.  Friends were on the team, including at least one I quietly admired a bit more over time.  I silently sat in an office above, behind the glass with scores in hand, typing away, rarely daring to even venture near the depths.

Then a day came in my 20's when I forced myself to swim.  My teacher was very, very clever, gently coaxing me into the water.  It took literally weeks to learn to float.  Nearing retirement, she had taught many frightened children and I suspect quite a few frightened adults.  First she held me in the water completely like a child, then as she slowly moved towards letting go, gradually handing me smaller and smaller inflatable objects, one day I found myself clinging to a single empty milk container floating in the water.  And realizing just how silly that was, I let it go.  Floating was easy!  And eventually I started to learn to swim...mostly... I was beginning to get the idea in the shallows, until I had to breathe - so still I feared the depths, as mastering my breathing eluded me.

Then the car wreck happened, the little truck utterly totaled on an isolated mountain road.  There were no cell phones, but people arrived to help.  I wasn't driving and it wasn't our fault, and we were mostly ok (a woman in the other car almost died, and that was where everyone's attention was).  I thought I was mostly ok anyway.  Or so it seemed.  Just to realize a day or so later I really wasn't ok, and I was in a neck brace, sling, muscle relaxants at night for way too long and physical therapy for a year.  The insurance company brought that to a rather abrupt halt (a story in itself).  The pains in my neck and shoulder and tingling in my hand eventually went away.  Many things heal in time.  But I used it all as a convenient excuse to stop the swimming, the depths out of reach once again. 

Around the time of my divorce, not long after my spiritual awakening, I decided to confront the depths again.  The only pool nearby was a scuba pool (surprisingly in Kansas), as deep as pools can go, pictures of lavish adventures at sea on the walls as you approached it.  My son was taking lessons there.  One day I decided to take lessons too.  It was a time of bold adventure, a time of facing fears.  This teacher was more demanding, not quite so gentle and patient as the first.  But I listened.  I finally learned to swim, mostly (even better than before).  Unfortunately, I never quite mastered my fear of the depths before we moved, though he made me swim over that gaping hole of darkness several times.  I did it as fast as I could, the breathing still elusive.  I could swim in other ways of course and breathe all I liked, but I didn't like swimming over the deep in the blind, always silently fearing something would pull me under, as it had long ago.  Even so, I did learn the joys of peacefully floating in the shallows.

One day, my teacher tried to get me to dive under the water from the surface (not from the edge, he knew I wasn't ready for that).  I literally couldn't do it, I was so buoyant (ironic to discover).  I think it might have made it easier to dive, to actually go there, to see it, to explore it, then it wouldn't be so dark.  But I couldn't.  Not in that pool.

Another day very near the end of my time in that locale, a substitute teacher assumed I knew how to tread water.  I didn't.  She coaxed me to attempt it anyway.  And I was amazed that I could!  It was easy.  It was much like dancing.  I defied the depths that day, laughing, dancing over the dark I feared - it was like a miracle.  The depths would never be the quite the same again. 

Soon my days in Kansas ended, and though I took just a few more swimming lessons by the ocean far away, the depths await me still.  I am a master of behind the glass...a window is open, the ocean breeze freeing me to breathe.  So I sit here typing while I look out to the waters...the depths call me to the Dance.  It's up to me to listen...

Leap

Taking a leap into your dreams is easy when you hold hands with the Multiverse.

I happened to come across a video today which carries many lessons.  I decided to just list some random thoughts very quickly since it is once again getting late, yet I'm committed to being here tonight.  Open the video in a separate window to follow along...

Separation.
Dismay.
Yearning.
Quandary.
Hesitation.
Fear.
Indecision.
Doubt.
Innovation.
Movement
Misdirection?.
Following.
Now what?
Lagging.
Couldn't be worse.
Catching up.
Serendipity.
Eureka.
Courage.
Faith.
Leap.
Wayshower.
Reunion.
Yes!
Wow.
How?
Interference.
Inspiration.
Example.
Hesitation.
Consciousness.
Critical mass.
Quantum Leap.
Reunited.
Peace.
Love.
Joy.
Heaven on Earth.

Video Evasion

"Video killed the radio star, 

video killed the radio star...

pictures came and broke your heart...

we can't rewind, we've gone too far..." 

~ The Buggles

Be careful when you put something out to the Universe - it may come back to you in a way you didn't quite expect.

From my perfectly pixelated video in L.A...

I'll be honest.  I have been in video evasion mode for quite a while.  I could have started putting out videos of at least portions of my conference talks from at least 2010, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I had all kinds of excuses, some of them actually true - you can't hear that one at all, this one was filmed at an absolutely horrible angle, oh yes, and that one too, and that one - and then there's the one where a friend and I artfully set it up in Los Angeles to be as flattering as possible, right after a New York image consultant had astonished me with how she did my makeup and hair, and I was wearing a rather expensive, quite honestly awesome dress - even so, I asked my friend to zoom in to make it as forgiving as possible - the zoom didn't work right on my "on sale at Kmart for 70% off" camera (before I had an iPhone), and it's so pixelated, you can barely make me out at all, plus there is hardly any sound.


Ok women out there, you know it, many of us are intensely uncomfortable on video.  And it's true, video is unforgiving - it's unforgiving because we are bombarded with images of Size 2 women on video, and so that's how we think we are supposed to look.  We simply can't forgive ourselves for not even coming close to fitting the illusion.  And ironically we actually perpetuate the illusion within our society by not participating in video at all.

I'll be honest.  This surfaces some real issues I'm working through.  I used to be one of those Size 6-8 women who could eat anything, anything at all.  I remember going out to lunch in my late 20's with a friend who was watching her weight, mystified as she explained counting fat grams to me - I had never heard of doing that.  I had not just whole milk in my refrigerator at home at that age, but the extra creamy whole milk (not even sure they make that anymore), and I could drink a lot of it with virtually no impact on my weight whatsoever, even with relatively limited exercise.  I could basically eat anything I wanted (though I tended not to eat many desserts) in whatever quantity I chose.

Then a day came when that changed drastically during a time of health challenges.  One of the medications apparently changed my metabolism (or it was just a coincidence of entering middle age or having Dairy Queen next door during a divorce ;-) - and that was the end of that.  The weight came on, to an uncomfortable degree anyway...and it wasn't "me" at all.

Not having done diet plans my entire life like many women do - in fact, I had never even thought of doing one - I had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to deal with the issue.  Thankfully I halted the ramp-up by, yes, shifting my diet (and walking the hills around my home), though that's still a work in progress.  Plus my health is much better now, thankfully, and I can't even remember the last time I picked up a prescription at the pharmacy.

Perceived perfection...my miracle day.

It's always something though, isn't it, these flaws which torment us so.  I actually had a different problem when I was young - not my weight, but issues with my skin (one wonders if all that heavy dairy had something to do with it!)- and I did all sorts of things to hide it.  I prayed, prayed, prayed my skin would be perfect on my Wedding Day, and miraculously, it was - and eventually, the entire problem mostly went away.

My sister warned me a while back "You know, it comes back in your late 40's."  Great!  Wonderful!  And yes, now I'm dealing with that too, to a degree, though not quite like in the past.

So fast forward to today...and back to unexpected responses from the Universe...and yes, this is a blatantly honest, "I just can't take caring about this anymore, so I'm putting it all out now" kind of free flowing post.   I actually told a friend just last week I was going to start doing videos.  My plan was to artfully do the videos of course in as flattering a way as possible.  The Universe had other ideas, thank you very much.

I just got home from a fundraiser for the local medieval festival I'm a part of.  There is only one costume they have given me to use, and quite honestly, some of the styles are not particularly flattering for most women, and this one is not the best - I really could use a different size or style. And to top it off, my skin is breaking out a little, and that always makes me a little uncomfortable.

"Can I take a picture of you?" the festival Facebook community guy asked.  "Sure, I said, but be sure it's flattering." (I sensed he really wouldn't know, as he gave me a rather puzzled look.)  And then I realized he didn't want to take a picture - he wanted to take a VIDEO, and indeed he did...I wasn't at all prepared for it, rather stumbled over my words.  Then I was asked later to do the presentation representing our group, very spontaneously - and I saw him filming that too.  What is so ironic about this is that I really have no significant issues with going up and talking in front of people.  I don't think about my perceived shortcomings all the time.  And I can generally look in the mirror and smile, even today.

Today.

But video.  It just "kills" me, quite honestly, I can't take it. 

I have no choice now.  It's done.  We can't rewind.  I will be on video quite soon on the internet (almost certainly) in one of the last dresses I would choose to wear...and imperfect in more ways than one.

And so the real work begins.  If I really don't feel so self conscious when talking to people in day to day life, if I really can look in the mirror daily without cringing, then what's the problem?

It's perception.  It's what I have allowed the unspoken "norms" of our society to do to my own feelings of how I'm "supposed" to look to be accepted.  I may not be a "radio star" exactly (though I'm doing quite well in the minor leagues), but I have allowed my evasion of video to "kill" a great many things.  It's my choice to change that.  It will take a bit of courage.  Did I mention I have some videos going all the way back to 2010?




P.S.  The answer to last night's riddle?  I'm sure you probably got it.  A table.