BUTCH AND SUNDANCE

I used to be afraid to look at myself with humility and honesty. I was terrified that what I'd see would be shameful, horrible. I couldn't get past my fear that what was inside me was awful, as if the creature from the black lagoon lived inside me and would reach out and pull me down. I was also afraid that if I admitted one little chink in my armor, the whole facade would collapse - I would be annihilated. 
     Because I couldn't get past the fear of what I'd discover inside, I had no chance to change. It didn't occur to me that there was any path beyond the fear and that kept me in prison, too terrified even to start the process of getting out. I used to think of myself as a student, eager to learn everything I could, but I was afraid to learn anything about myself.
     The many ways I suffered from that fear and the effect it had on my life finally brought me to my knees. I came to a fork in the road. One path led to more of the same or even worse; the other led to survival which had what I thought of as a great cost - I would have to be willing to face what I felt as my terror of the truth. In a moment of clarity, I moved toward survival.
     What helped me be willing to face my fear and learn how to find the path beyond it? What helped me take the risk of learning something new about myself, when I so completely believed that anything I would see would be shameful? I think about that very often; if I'm interested in something, I always want to explain it to myself in words. 
     It wasn't words that led me to the willingness to look inside. Instead, it was a spiritual experience, an awakening to a connection with the world that was so much greater than myself. I felt that oneness mystics describe. I had feared annihilation and had kept myself defended, encased in a block of ice. But now I felt the paradoxical freedom that comes from surrender to a power greater than myself. I was at one with the universe, merged into it, and felt an energy flow in and out of me. There were no words for it but I didn't need them. I didn't have to explain to myself what had happened. I had had an experience of energy and freedom, a vision of something powerful, which was both inside and outside me, and without my realizing it, I began moving up the path.
     It's not possible for me to be completely without defenses and without fear of what's inside me. Sometimes a friend will tell me something about myself and my instant reaction is a stab of fear; does she see something about me that I can't see, something bad? This is true even when she's only agreeing with something I've already said. My fear of exposure will never entirely go away. But more and more, I want to see and understand whatever is inside, keeping me from good-feeling and a sense of growth, so that I can get free of it, free enough so that it doesn't run me. 
     For some reason, I'm thinking of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid leaping off the cliff into the raging river below. Suffering is the motivator. It gave me no choice but to take the risk of leaping off. What I discovered was that the river below wouldn't drown me. In fact, it would be support me and help me float toward freedom.