Fear of Change

My recent squaring off with the possibility of pending death brought the topic front and center. Many people assert that the fear of death is the greatest fear there is. I discovered that just isn’t true for me. The fears that really crimp me up are of a deeper sort. It may seem that it doesn’t get any deeper than death – but that isn’t my experience.

I notice in my own life, it is not physical death I’m most afraid of – but the possibility of some sort of torture just ahead. Something that is completely not of my choosing. What’s up there – around that bend I’m careening toward just might include some sort of pain I really, really don’t want. I glitch up the most when I feel completely out of control of where the boat is headed.

The greatest fear for many seems to be of change. Not just any old change, but specifically any change that really shakes things up in a way of major unknown consequences. Death figures right up there in this context as a major change-agent, of course. In a way, change does imply a death of sorts – to all things as we know them. And for many, the death of the body tops the list for the biggest change possible.

But, for some of us, death implies simply a change in form. And some of us don’t buy into the myth that the body is forever, so that particular facet of change doesn’t bother us so much. In fact, if we’ve hung out with really sick and ailing elders for a while, we may come to realize that death of the body is a deep blessing when it finally comes. There are other “deaths” – not necessarily of the body or physical form that are far more scary. There are forms of annihilation of the self that run deeper than dropping the physical form. For instance, if we feel of absolutely no value anymore, that is deeply painful. We – as living entities – may consider ourselves as surpassing and continuing on beyond the death of the body. But if we no longer find value in our very existence – in any shape – it is a terribly lonely proposition.

When we frame the conversation that way we open it up to realize the source of many sorts of suffering among us. We can understand the misery of those whose voices hold no weight – either because of gender, economics or age. Those who have “proven” themselves to have no worth by somebody’s strict dogmatic standards. Those of any minority in any place when the majority somehow consider themselves superior.

There is also, in today’s culture, some validity to the fear of getting old and dying – in the way it happens here. To enter the medical community as an old, sick person is often to lose any sense of dignity of self-propriety whatsoever. The worst part about my recent colon cancer mirage was the way the gastroenterologist who did the colonoscopy treated me. Like a brainless child who was meant to follow his orders. Not in the least interested in my experience or brainpower.

And that’s in spite of my being a trained physician. Who scored in the top 99.8 percentile in verbal reasoning in the MCATs!

There is a debilitation of self that occurs under these conditions that far surpasses the sloughing off of the carbon-based skin form we’re lugging around. To be treated, and start to think of ourselves as a sort of nonexistent ghost still stuck on the planet – with no worth or substance of worth – is misery.

Death, as I said, becomes a blessing. Get us out of here already.

There is a recent article in the Time magazine which describes the remarkable turnaround in returning soldiers with PTSD when they are placed in community service opportunities. One of the subtitles of the article is “We still need you”.

That says it all. My prayer for us each: As long as we are on the planet, may we know ourselves to be worthy of the space we occupy.