The Stranger in the Desert: stilling the mind & seeing fear clearly

An ancient story tells of someone taking a journey across a remote desert, and how, a few days into the journey, far away from the nearest town, the traveller noticed someone behind them in the far distance.

At first, the traveller gave no thought to this. But then they noticed that the person behind them was getting closer each day. They told themselves it must be a fellow traveller. Perhaps they were travelling to visit relatives? Or to sell something at a market?

But as each day passed and the person got closer and closer, the traveller’s thoughts became more and more frightening. Perhaps they were dangerous? Perhaps they wanted to rob him? Perhaps they might attack them, kill them?

The day came when the person following them was only a short distance behind and the traveller couldn’t bear it any more. They decided that the only way to end the awful feeling of fear was to turn around and head straight towards the stranger.

And that was when something very strange began to happen. As they got closer to the stranger, the stranger seemed to get smaller and smaller, until they were small enough to fit into the palm of a hand.

The traveller knelt down and asked the tiny figure, ‘What sort of creature are you?’ The tiny figure replied, ‘I am your fear.’

Stilling and seeing

Meditation involves two essential, interrelated aspects: stilling and seeing.

Focussing our whole attention on saying our prayer word in tandem with the breath (or on simply following our breath), gently stills the chattering, worrying mind, and allows awareness to open.

Moment by moment, breath by breath, we learn to meet what is present quietly.

Meditation is not about not having thoughts and feelings. We learn a new, less reactive relationship with them.

We come to see how chatting to ourselves in reaction to thoughts and feelings, only gives them energy and makes them larger. We notice how we grab hold of them. And we practise releasing them by simply returning our attention to our prayer word and the breath. We learn to press pause on our mind jumping from one thought to another, whipping up story after story.

Wisdom from Martin Laird OSA

‘Whatever it is in us that grasps and craves is soothed and calmed and begins to loosen its grip,’ writes Martin Laird. (1) And we are able to see things as they are. Quietly acknowledging our fear with less struggle, with less resistance, allows our relationship with fear to be transformed.

In practical terms, this may mean being able to write the email we’ve been dreading writing. Or being able to book the medical appointment we’ve been avoiding. Or being able to fall back to asleep more easily when we’ve woken in the night.

The path of meditation doesn’t take us away from our life, but allows us to form a new relationship with it, characterised by greater awareness, and greater peace. We discover a natural freedom. Not freedom from fear, from fear, from distress – but a freedom in the midst of all we encounter, all we experience.

The refuge of awareness

As we learn to meet whatever we experience with less reactive chatter, we discover a refuge of peace that is always available for us. The refuge of simple awareness. That which is aware of pain, aware of fear, aware of distress, is always free of what it is aware of, otherwise it could not be aware of it.

In her Revelations of Divine Love, Julian of Norwich writes of Christ saying to her ‘very gently, voicelessly, and without opening his lips’ – that is, in silence – “trust…and you shall not be overcome.”’ She continues, ‘He did not say, “You shall not be perturbed, you shall not be troubled, you shall not be distressed”, but he said, “You shall not be overcome.”

God wants us to pay attention to these words, she says, and to be strong in trust whatever is happening in our life. For, ‘…he loves us and is pleased with us, and so wishes us to love him, and be pleased with him, and strongly trust in him: and all shall be well.’ (2)