Fear and Love

I walked through my suburban neighborhood streets, noticing so many sounds. I heard car engines, wind rustling in the trees, my feet crunching leaves, birds singing, my breathing, cars swishing by on the distant highway, and the muffled roar of planes overhead. All was good.

Then a man in a hooded sweatshirt stepped out of a side street just ahead of me. He was a few paces ahead, walking in the same direction I walked, head bent, lighting a cigarette.

Immediately my gut triggered an age-old reaction. Be careful! It said. Be wary. I quickened my pace, crossed to the other side of the street, and passed him. Then he called out to me.

This brought to mind many walks when I tensed up over a pickup truck driving slowly behind me, changing its speed to match mine, or an isolated man appearing on a deserted stretch of beach.

In this case, I knew I was perfectly safe; there were houses all around, and it was broad (although drizzly) daylight.

And yet.

Maybe some readers among you know this immediate trigger of fear when walking alone, and an unknown man suddenly appears on the scene.

Decades ago, I learned martial arts, and in moments like this, I would plan what self-defense moves I could make if necessary. Back then, I felt safer - physically strong and trained. Not so much in my current decade.

He started to speak.

“How’s it goin’?” he called to me and looked right at me. “Kinda wet, huh?” He smiled.

Maybe it was the smile or something else he portrayed, but I relaxed some. I decided just to trust that he had no malicious or misogynist intentions.

So I told him I was fine, thanks, and that I heard it was supposed to rain more later in the day. I went on my way, a little less tense.

But I continued to think about him. I had decided he was not dangerous. But what if I was completely wrong and he would secretly follow me to my house and then lie in wait one night …

This is what our minds do!

I realized that I had missed a great opportunity in those brief moments of this encounter. I could have sent him mental phrases of kindness that I’ve been taught:

May you be safe.

May you be healthy.

May you be happy.

May you live with ease.

These simple phrases, offerings of kindness from the heart, are part of a meditation practice called metta (or lovingkindness) that is very familiar to me. There is even a version of metta, affectionately called stealth metta, where we silently offer these phrases to random people we encounter in our day – in the grocery store, waiting in line anywhere, walking down the street. This practice may or may not save us from harm, but it warms our hearts, makes compassion a bit more accessible, and reminds us of our common humanity. It reminds us that love exists in this world, and we can be part of it. No matter what.

So, as I approached my house, I mentally offered this young man these wishes. I made a mental note for next time to try the metta response before or alongside my fear-based stories of ascribing malice to others. I realized that both can be held simultaneously (fear and kindness), and maybe eventually, the kindness muscle will be stronger than the automatic fear muscle.

Do you think kindness - or love - is an antidote to fear? Have you experienced this?

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