I have written before about Buddhism’s Five Great Fears; they are fear of death, fear of illness, fear of losing your mind, fear of loss of livelihood, and fear of public speaking. I think that reason Buddhism calls these “great” fears is because each of them mobilizes the full force of our nervous systems’ threat response (which is why the panicky fear of public speaking is included in the list).
Today I’d like to talk about the first of them—fear of death. Again I turn to Woody Allen ironic and mordant sense of humor as an introduction to the topic. He says, “I don’t mind the thought of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens to me.” For most of us who are not ill or overly neurotic, fear of death seems distant and theoretical. It’s only when we step off a curb or do a bungee cord jump that our ancient primate neurology overwhelms all rational thought and we are flooded with panic.
In reality, death is an everpresent reality; it lives at the boundary of self and ego and defines our life. We are alive because we are not dead; though our daily life is filled with the mental jumble of thoughts, feelings, and plans, at another level we have a low-level vigilance system that is always looking out for existential threats.
As we age this vigilance system changes. In addition to monitoring moment-to-moment threats such as an oncoming car or a loose banister, our threat scanning starts to intuit a distant but slowly approaching dark cloud—the approaching end, the ultimate boundary. Often it is the sudden death of someone close that brings this home; and then the frequency of hospital visits and funerals slowly starts to pick up speed, like a drumbeat in the jungle.
The Buddhist approach to all of this is quite practical, really. Buddhism understands that from the standpoint of ego the prospect of death is literally inconceivable. The ego cannot imagine being dead. It has no reference point for it. But there is another aspect of awareness that not only can understand it, but already knows about it. There is a saying in the Zen tradition, “Birth and death are the great matter.” That is where actual Buddhist practice takes root.
More next post…
As an adolescent, i faced down a couple of guys with guns. Doesn’t really count because adolescents feel they are unable to die/ are indifferent to death.
Pain is a terror. Suffocation is a terror. Expiring is an inconvenience.
I am not a regular internet browser but somehow was lead to your website this evening – probably in search of some meaning in the situation I find myself in and a deep need to find a path to coping and accepting – not only for for my sake, but also my mothers, and those around me. A heartfelt thank you for your wise words and also to all those who have contributed such moving, meaningful comments that seem to speak very relevant truths.
My mother, who is 92, has dementia and recently was admitted to hospital, after a fall, with a broken wrist. She coped so well with all that was done to her which was very ‘out of character’ and I found myself pondering on this change from the somewhat difficult person she has recently been to this calm accepting person whose sense of humour was still there despite the horrible situation.
Then last weekend I found myself sitting at her bedside through the night as she had been readmitted to hospital with pneumonia. The doctors did not think she would recover. So I kept my vigil and found myself repeating the ohm mantra. Im not sure where it came from – I could not call myself a practising Buddhist although in a previous grieving situation I found much meaning in the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying and have recently found great inspiration from the book Cave in the Snow about Tenzin Palmo. As has already been commented on previously – I also felt the need to convey in my thoughts to Mum that it was ok for her to let go and that I would be ok. But it seems it wasnt the time for that – she made it through the night and is recovering.
But that time will come and my hope is that I can meet it and the decisions that may need to be made with loving kindness. Your words on applying Metta to ourselves, as we may the ones who need it, was perhaps what I needed to hear and what brought me here. Perhaps, despite the ongoing grieving process that is present as you watch your parents ageing, this time can also be looked upon as an opportunity to extend and meditate upon loving kindness through good practices and humility. My mother is still teaching me much! The saying that you quote ‘Birth and death are the great matter’ is beginning to resonate deeply . I look forward to your next post.
Good approach…”.the ego has no refrence pont for death”…
i read recently a zen or chan teachers’ expression ( cant remmeber the exact source)…..”without death there is no buddha”
Lew, thanks for introducing this topic. The followups will be welcomed, too. Question: is there a specific practice, other than sitting with a focus on the breath, to deal with this fear of death?
wildflower– dharma teacher in mid 1970′s at green gulch –CA, yvonne rand taught us
“to SEE , then greet fear on our shoulder “o hello u again “–but “not give it hi tea”…is another casse of observe and let go…but this little ritual has stuck with me over the years –also was helpful with others hard to answer questions….
wildflower cont’d re death fear–following above’ shoulder-shoo ‘ visualization..what happens is the image apparently feels unwelcome..and actually floats off disintegrating as it exits….will b interested to hear if similar happens–or if u will experience your own evolution of dissipating fear images….
bows and metta, wendy. your words bring me right where I need to be!
Timor mortis conturbat me.
This is a refrain from a lengthy early middle ages poem, “The fear of death disturbs me.” I love this poem because of the simplicity and obviousness of the statement. It is not so much death, but the fear of death that disturbs me, ruffles the still water. I was at my mother’s bedside the night she died. The only thing I could compare it to in its silence and mystery was the thunderstruck, absolutely silent moment when my daughter was born. A swinging door. Death/Birth. One unwelcome the other expected. But in the moment, the exact moment, I felt both to be exactly the same. It is the fear that surrounds death more than the experience of death itself.
I wonder what the connection is betwen the ultimate death of the physical body and the small ego deaths we strive to experience while we’re still alive.
As a health worker I am not so much afraid of being dead as I am of the process of dying. While our medical advances give us many choices for prolonging life – some of them wonderful, some of them not so much – I wonder when my time comes, and if I am competent to make a decision, if I will want them. Sometimes I wonder if death might be a relief from the pain of medical procedures to save our lives…
And Judith – I love your question!
Thanks, Lew, for introducing this topic. I agree that the ego can’t conceive of its own death, but that there is another part of perception that knows death is ever present. I don’t know what that part is, but I sense that this is correct in my experience.
I know that death is natural and that it is good because renewal is necessary. Imagine how our children would feel if we went on living forever. No matter how strong the bond between parent and child, the child needs to experience herself/himself as an elder. How could that be done if the older generation never died?
Without death, life is not precious. When I look out my window at the sun shining on the golden leaves, I know I’d better enjoy the beauty while I can. The leaves will be gone and so will I.
I also know that when I have a lot of time to do something, I tend to procrastinate, to waste time. When I have a “deadline”, then I get busy.
Thanks for all comments! Death and life are indeed two sides of the same reality. We can’t have the front of something without the back. “Without death there is no Buddha…”
Many people say that it is not death per se they fear, but pain and the thought of dying alone. There are many aspects to these fears.
I find in dealing with our emotions about things and people that trouble us, it is helpful to think and remember, “Everyone is terrified.” Its not the whole truth, but it is a truth, I believe.
Fear and freedom from fear is a curious thing in Buddhism. Maybe in today’s modern culture, we have learned to treat fear as an affliction, but that is not the case within traditional Buddhist sources. The Abhidharma for instance does not list fear as one of the multitude of afflictive mental conditions; anger, greed, jealousy and so on are mentioned but not fear. Maybe we can relax a bit about our fears, you know, the old FDR adage, ‘nothing to fear but fear itself.’
Being free from fear is praised however. Giving protection from fear is part of the Paramita of Generosity and recalls the hand gesture of Tara granting protection from fear, her hand held up palm facing out. Fearlessness is taken as an enlightened quality.
Fear itself is protective and healthy. Through the experience of fear we are brought into awareness of our ignorance. We are brought into awareness of danger for others and ourselves. The quest to be free of suffering itself has an element motivated at some levels by fear.
But in our modern cultural this seems wrong. Fear is often given a negative quality. We experience neurotic fear, fear of losing separate identity; fear of losing our sense of solidity, fear of connectedness with other beings which might diminish our self importance, oh my! Fear of death, fearful of sickness and old age, a culture strives to be free. Instead we can end up fearful of the things we should not fear and fearless in the face of things that we should fear.
As I see it, fear is a friend. It tells me I am not complete in the moment. The methods that go to the root of fear and uncover its nature, serve a benefit. If I suffer fear, then I am owned, not free. If I experience fear with freedom, then it is a friend.
On a more personal note, I have been in the grip of dying a number times, terminal in fact. That story is long, major undiagnosed multiple organ failure, a death bed, recovery. Many years of dialysis, declining to death’s grip again, recovery. A miraculous transplant, for many years now and completely free from medication is another miracle. There has been total blindness and then recovery, but quite honestly, fear was never a part of those experiences. Why is that? Quite simply, love.
It seems, at the root of fear is an unsettled aspect of abundance that I cannot see at the moment fear arises. Being kind and loving, and particularly, true compassion, when I am confused in thinking that these qualities are absent, there is fear. Fear is my flag that the heart has just closed.
Being in presence with love, kindness and compassion has probably kept this life force strong for these past 30 years. Tomorrow I may perish, if there is fear it is protective and a close friend whispering, open your heart.
Yes,I am afraid of death, because I am afraid of losing control. If I’ve died before, I can’t remember it, but I’ve had severe experiences of losing control, where there appears no right action to take, and no capacity for taking action. What scares me about things like these, is that the feeling remains that some action is appropriate, yet none are functional. I couldn’t just rest and accept what was coming, and I couldn’t center myself, yet something of me remained, between struggle and helplessness. I fear that death is the epitome of this experience. When contemplating death, this is what I feel.
greg!!re: ur comments P#5-7 ///11/10–
fear as my friend…”fear is my
…red flag …
that the heart is closed”
!!!!!!!i am loving all this[ new way of seeing old muddy stuff]
like big blinding mist being s l o w l y lifted …
however..’at the root of fear is an unsettled aspect of abundance…..”–dont get this part–too abstract for me now..
thank u for delicious thought provoking inspirations../motivationals
Hi Wendy,
By abundance I mean that we are complete, nothing is missing. Contentment is the experience of abundance.
By unsettled I mean we loose touch with abundance, with contentment.
Settling into abundance is contentment. Contentment is not fear.
There is a line in a poem from the great 12th century. Tibetan yogi Khyungpo Naljor:
Know that the source of abundance is contentment.
I hope that helps a little.
All the best
g
As I approach 60 years old in january, I have been doing some reflecting. This is both a scary time for me and a clear opportunity for me. It’s an opportunity because I never in my life ever imagined I would make it to being 60! I grew up in the 60s when I thought for sure the world was going to hell in a handbasket . (If I ever could have realized just how much worse things could get!). So as I am not tied into living a life I dreamed of, I can craft a life I want going forward.
, or at least have feared living.
, because once I am dead, I am dead.
But it’s scary times also not because I fear dying. That has NEVER been an issue for me. I DO fear living.
My sitting practice sustains me through most things, and over the years, the only fear it really didn’t dissolve was my fear of pain, having lived in chronic pain since my mid 20s. I used to have a fear that I would die, alone, and that no one would find me for weeks. Don’t laugh! It took me a while to realize that is only sad to me as long as I am living
I am very grateful to Lew for starting this blog and addressing the very real issues of aging and spiritual practice. I feel supported in my life and practice just knowing this blog is here and addressing issues I resonate with.
I think Sam speaks for the universal human being–i.e. us! All of that is true, but I think the point of Buddhism highlighting this teaching is to point out that it is a dharma gate.
What we fear most is what can teach us best–that is the idea.
In dealing with my Mother’s passing after severe dementia from a fall 2 years ago, on this anniversary I find myself needing this kind or support, dharma to assist my healing process. I found your blog to be really helpful. The Fear of own eventual passing came up when my Maternal Goddess figure – my mother passed. Great work, thanks again to you!
Sincerely, Elizabeth, Ceramic artist, earth installation artist.
This subject prompted a number of really well written replies. From my own experience, now in the 3rd stage of aging, I see that dark cloud on the horizon. I don’t know how fast it is approaching, but I know it will reach me. Like Woody Allen, I would like to be absent when it comes. There is too much to do, can’t go yet.
Having lost parents and friends over the last several years convinces the ego that birth is a death sentence. A lot of middle-aged individuals turn to Zen to understand birth and death.
There is a meditation that goes something like this:
Death is certain, The time of occurrence is not. What will you do right now.
As to how to practice with the fear of death, one approach is familiarity. Turning toward it. I will be covering that in the next blog post.
Thank you, Lew for this new post and thanks to all who replied. I love the meditation that Bob posted: Death is certain, the time of occurrence is not. What will you do right now. I think this is what matters. Right now, this moment, and what we choose to do with it. And the wonderful thing is, the choice is ours to make! With a bow, and gratefulness.
I’m looking forward to it.
Per Bob, what you will do right now is live, I think.
I enjoy this conversation about the five great fears…what I get from it is, that in the moment, you are living and dying and this creates a conundrum for us, because then what ARE we doing here in the first place?
Where would fear of rape come into this scheme? I was just in a park, on my own, taking photographs, when I noticed a man following me. He came up beside me and started to stroke my arm and take hold of it. My instincts kicked in, and I said no, no, no, and made off as fast as I could, heart pounding. That’s as afraid as I’ve ever been.
I’m beginning to think that the 5 fears are just a convenient frame for talking about fears in general, but we could as easily name the 5 in another way, or make it 50, or 500, depending on our culture, history, gender, age, and personality.
E.g., fear of loss of control, fear of abandonment, fear of humiliation, fear of being constrained, fear of suffocation