Every night, after the tucking in, my youngest clings to my neck and asks that I stay with him for a little while. This mom would like nothing better than to snuggle in beside that warm little body and drift off to sleep with his sweet scent tickling my nose. But laundry waits, and meeting minutes need typed, and there is also his daddy all lonely downstairs. When I reluctantly pull away, the child inevitably says the same thing every night.
“But I hear something.”
Night Fear. It’s the title of chapter three of Gerald May’s The Wisdom of Wilderness, and our topic of discussion today.
In this chapter, May recounts his experience with a bear during one of his solitary camping trips. He never actually sees the bear, as the visitor arrives in the middle of the night; but the bear makes his presence known. May is awakened by growling and snuffling outside his tent. The bear is so close that May describes the smell of him–a brusque, wild smell, the smell of something alive and very near.
May describes the moments following the bear’s departure:
I lie unmoving for a very long time after the bear leaves, my senses completely alert, no thoughts, no images, seeing nothing, hearing only my heart and breath and the sounds of the night. For the first time in my life, I am experiencing pure fear. I am completely present in it, in a place beyond all coping because there is nothing to do. I have never before experienced such clean, unadulterated purity of emotion. This fear is naked. It consists, in these slowly passing moments, of my heart pounding, my breath rushing yet fully silent, my body ready for anything, my mind absolutely empty, open, waiting. I am fear. It is beautiful.
May describes the sense of gratitude that follows this encounter as an appreciation of the privilege of being alive in the totality of everything, the gift of fully existing right then and there.
His experience with the bear led May to an awareness of how often in life we try to suppress or tame our emotions. May asserts that in this process we lose the gift of increased awareness–of being in the moment–which strong emotions can give.
This is a rich chapter with many thought-provoking topics. The one I would like to camp on, however, is this idea that May’s night fear birthed in him–the idea that coping is counter to healing, counter to living. May sees coping as an attempt to anesthetize our emotions, and therefore as a means of separating ourselves from our true nature.
In my psychiatric practice how many times did I help patients cope with their feelings, tame the power of their emotions? I no longer believe that was helpful. Even when I assisted people in uncovering long-buried emotions, I seldom encouraged them to savor the life-juice of the feelings themselves; the rich dark love-nature of grief, the warming fire of anger, the subtle luminosity of loneliness, the pure gut-driving power of sexual desire, or the exquisite clarity of fear…Wild, untamed emotions are full of life-spirit, vibrant with the energy of being. They don’t have to be acted out, but neither do they need to be tamed. They are part of our inner wilderness; they can be just what they are.
These words are beautiful. They mesmerize me. But as one who works in the mental health field, I’m struggling with them. In my work in rehabilitation psychology, I counsel people who have been through traumatic, life-altering events. In my experience, a period of “coping” must take place in order for these individuals to pick up the pieces of their lives. They have no escape from the tragedy they are in. They cannot retreat to a place of solitude in an attempt to improve their situation. They have to learn to return to the everyday details of their lives with this new thing. Sometimes it’s the loss of a leg. Sometimes it’s paralysis. Sometimes, it’s the alteration of a person they love due to a brain injury. Coping helps them get to a place where they can later deal with the emotions involved on a deeper level.
So, although I hear what May is saying, and I recognize the beauty in fully experiencing strong emotions, I’m not sure that is always the practical approach. What do you think?
Food for thought:
**May says Fear is life-energy: full-bodied, rich, clean, exquisite, sweet. When you get right down to its bones, fear is love. Fear is made of love. That’s why perfect love–love in its purest form–casts out fear.
This sounds sort-of counterintuitive. What are your thoughts on this comment?
**We also see May referring to the Wisdom of nature for the first time in this chapter. He senses the Wisdom guiding him, keeping him in the present moment and freeing him from distractions.
What thoughts does this naming of the Power Wisdom provoke in you?
Artwork by L.L. Barkat, used with permission. Post by Laura Boggess of the Wellspring
OTHER BOOK CLUB POSTS:
LL’s Technology Fails Me Home
Glynn’s It Was Lone Elk Park, But It Was No Lone Elk
Monica’s Which Fear
Nancy’s book
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OK, now I think May went off the deep end here. Bears? Voices in the night? Camping out in zero degrees in the wilderness by yourself and your experience is one snowy night in the backyard? (I’d likely hear voices, too, but I would go sleep in the car. Witht he doors locked.)
I worked past the bears, voices and cold, and thought about the slowing her refers to, and how gratitude often follows fear. And while there weren’t any bears, or extreme cold, or voices in the night, I recalled an experience I had some years back, when in subruban St. Louis I found myself in the pitch black dark in the middle of an elk herd. And May is exactly right — what follows fear is gratitude.
Glynn, that is so amazing! And you’ve put your finger on something I’ve been musing on all weekend in regards to this book…
it all feels a little strange and unbelievable unless you’ve “been there.” I wonder if we can really enter in or appreciate May’s experience if we simply read this book from the comfort of our techno-comfy homes.
Great points Glynn and L.L.! I certainly see this as an encouragement… check that… a PUSH to get out and LIVE LIFE!!!
I get the point load and clear that simply ‘coping’ with things in life is a dangerous place to be. I’ve seen futile attempts to cope bring people down pretty hard. Ultimately, it seems that the best thing is to embrace life in everything that it has to offer… and that includes all of the scary stuff.
I sounds a lot like the reasons that roller coasters are so much fun. Feeling like you are about to be thrown from the car can be scary… yet it is still SO much fun! Just embrace it!
I guess I need to pull out my dictionary! I don’t think of “coping” as the same as “taming.” I prefer to take the full force of emotions and experiences and everything, which for me is a part of the coping.
And I think L.L. explained it well for me, that one of the reasons I don’t connect well with some of what May says is that I haven’t experienced what he experienced.
Another thought, just now. I’ve heard that aggressive dogs or other animals can sense fear in people (and it’s less likely they will attack if I am not afraid). If I attempt to “tame” the fear as May explains he *didn’t* do, will that make the animal more or less likely to attack? And if I let the fear go untamed, will the animal not attack? I wonder if “untamed fear” is another way of saying “fear without nervousness”?
I could and once did stand in awe of rhino in the South African bush. The awe came before the first inkling of fear, and (fortunately) the fear dissipated quickly when we got back into our vehicle and could remain a moment taking in this wonder in a kind of safe haven of steel. I imagined the rhino experiencing its own fear–of us.
. . . .
To understand, accept, allow oneself the experience of being present to any enormously strong emotion of one’s own is one thing. It is quite another to turn onto another human being certain emotion — “the warming fire of anger” that explodes, for example. In that case, the angry person is more unpredictable than the rhino, which we know, in certain circumstances, will charge. In the presence of inexplicable human anger that’s been unleashed, not even the target is knowable and the outcome is always iffy.
Fear is love only in the sense that each is a kind of extreme emotion that on being explored can open into insights and self-awareness. We fear God and we love God both at the same time: a duality we ever seek to reconcile by virtue of being created in His image.
A human inducing fear in the name of love of another human being is nothing more than control.
Glynn,
Just read your post on the elk and I stand amazed. I can’t imagine how it must have felt to be in the midst of a herd of these great beasts! I’m wondering if we should start awarding a book club medal of bravery, or something. Or at least one for the coolest story!
I agree with you, L.L.: I think it is hard to swallow some of May’s perceptions unless you’ve “been there”. Re: the bear…I think I understand why May’s first reaction following was to relieve himself. I’m sure I would have peed my pants!! Gratitude, yes, yes, yes. Thankful to be alive. I have come across a bear while cycling on the Greenbrier River Trail Once. But the poor guy was more scared of me than I of him. But still, I keep thinking about Grizzly Man, or whatever they called that guy whose attempts to live in the wild with the bears turn tragic.
Dan,
I hear you. I guess my experiences with coping are in kind of different circumstances. A call to get out there and live? I love it.
Maureen…Maybe I was too hasty in awarding Glynn the Medal of Coolest Story. Wow! Aren’t Rhinos supposed to be very aggressive and unpredictable? Amazing that you were allowed this privilege of observing them peacefully.
I like how you point out the difference between being aware of our emotions and letting them take us over. I think you have pegged May’s experience when you say, about extreme emotions that they”…can open into insights and self-awareness”.
Counter-intuitive as it sounds – yes, I can agree fear is ultimately love: Fear comes from our need / instinct to protect what we love =o)
I think it is necessary to have experienced fear in its rawest form to understand May’s comment, that it can make you feel so “alive” … No bears in my experience, only scary heights and a bunch of large, unfriendly dogs, but still =o)
Something very similar can be found in grief, strange as it may be. Amidst the chaos, there’s a tiny little voice, neglected at the moment, that is amazed…. amazed that you are so alive, able to love so much, and able to feel so much (pain).
I don’t know so much about coping. I agree with Dan:
“Ultimately, it seems that the best thing is to embrace life in everything that it has to offer… and that includes all of the scary stuff”
In my experience the best you can do about grief is to let go and feel it all the way, until you are done feeling it. I mean, life goes on: you have responsibilities, a job, whatever… there are always tons of practical stuff to take care of, and it’s probably better that way – But- I just get the feeling that our world does not stop when it should… perhaps we are missing out when we don’t take the time to “feel” things properly, even bad things, and let them touch us? …just a thought…
Good summary, Laura. I remember the comments from last week on the reference to She. As soon as May clarified She to mean Wisdom, the awkward feeling subsided because I know that biblically, Wisdom is feminine. Funny how sensitive I am to words.
Re: fear, I’ve backpacked as a profession for over a decade and I still have never camped alone. I could be in the middle of nowhere night after night and hear all the noises in the world, but I don’t have the guts to do it alone.
Last note: I’m glad to hear from your experience in the mental health field, Laura. I hope you get a chance to share more of these insights.
he is doing some things on purpose and alone. and it is beginning to feel like a preparation, a wrapping up, quick learned lessons, pushing the human boundaries into a place where the senses can feel in an extreme way. i feel that he must do it alone because the next step in his existence will not be made with anyone else. he is wanting to test and connect and relate with his self and his God. he is relating something very personal to him and his life and situation and his way of thinking. i find some of names that he finds to use to describe what he is feeling and experiencing to be something that not all people would use. i also think that we can take it as his experience but do not have to look at it as if it is the word of God, or even a correct theory for everyone’s mental or spiritual healing.
love the illustration photo! very nice light and movement.
Something that made me smile in this chapter: May’s description of preparing his camp breakfast.
He talks about his one and only plan for the weekend- to cook “a breakfast that would move galaxies by its very existence.”
Such a vignette of the Creation story! He treats our five senses to the breakfast creation process and then he even pauses to admire the work of his hands and snap photos before he digs in. It makes me want to say, “And Gerald saw that the giant breakfast was very good. And Gerald called it ‘The Queen Mother of All Breakfasts.’ And he sat and ate. And he ate it all and was satisfied. And there was morning and there was evening- the second day of camp.”
I’m still percolating on this chapter and hope to condense my more serious thoughts by the end of the week.
I don’t really know how to comment on this chapter Laura. I’m just going to be honest and confess that this is one of those books I probably would put down about now and not finish reading. His writing is wonderful, but I just can’t “connect” with him.
I think I am a bit weary of such introspective thinking; tired of all the self examination.
I am at a point in my life’s journey where I want to know more of Him and less of me.
Oh dear, I sound like such a stick-in-the-mud. I don’t mean to. I am sure May is searching for the same thing in his own way.
I agree with you on the coping. Is it wrong to think that when Jesus said we could cast our burdens on Him, He was giving us a way to cope?
I said at the beginning that I feel as though I am a bit out of my depth. I’ve probably made that abundantly clear with this comment.
Ana,
I agree…I think that raw fear (and perhaps a safe resolution) may be necessary to appreciate May’s viewpoint. Love what you say about grief; I posted recently on a bereavement conference I went to. The speakers said much the same as what you say here: “Amidst the chaos, there’s a tiny little voice, neglected at the moment, that is amazed…. amazed that you are so alive, able to love so much, and able to feel so much (pain)”… It was amazing.
Sam,
I was still feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the naming that May does, until I thought of Adam. Perhaps this giving names is the more natural way and we are the ones who have forgotten.
I’m glad you feel better about the She
Nancy,
I love this thought that he must go alone because the next place he will go, no one can accompany. You always open my eyes.
Erin,
I love the creation analogy! This made me smile too. Pictures? That is too cute. And it was good.
I hear what you are saying, Linda. This is a bit out of my comfort zone too…and I’ve never thought of myself as a stick-in-the-mud! I just keep reminding myself that May was dying when he wrote this book. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m sure it took him to a very introspective place. I’m curious about his other books, wonder if they are as (forgive me) groovy. Facing death probably would take me to a place that I had never been…physically and mentally. He was in unchartered territory.
Don’t feel bad if you want to sit this one out…but I hope you will join us for further discussions. Remember my initial challenge, just try to spend some time in nature and share your experience with us. I learn from everyone with each post I read.
Thanks for reaching, friend.
Belatedly just completing this chapter and a little like, Linda and Monica, not quite connecting. May’s thoughts on fear intrigue me although I have not had any experiences even similar to his (or Glynn’s elk).
Four years ago, I did receive a phone call that my mother and step-father had been on their motorcycle and hit by a drunk driver. The fact that the phone call came from a stranger and not my mother, that was frightening. Long story short, the fear that I experienced on the 5-hour drive following that phone call has been the closest thus far. When I arrived, my fear was not much relieved as things were quite tragic. (Laura – I wish I had known you then.) My mother almost lost her leg; did lose the use of it for several years. And my step-father had to be removed from life support. Cope? Yes. We all did, and it was a good thing. Therefore, I more related to what Laura said, “Coping helps them get to a place where they can later deal with the emotions involved on a deeper level.” I did, however, find May’s words on this subject very intriguing.
I continue to ponder, thinking of the gratitude that I lived out as I experienced the fear in just that one circumstance. Yes, it was there. Not as raw as what May describes, but it was present.
On a lighter note, my desire to venture into the wilderness is much less intense with this chapter. No snow camping for me. Maybe a day trip to a forest, in nice weather!
Looking forward to more…
When you get right down to its bones, fear is love. Fear is made of love. That’s why perfect love–love in its purest form–casts out fear.
I don’t follow May on this one. Ana makes a great point that fear and love are related because we fear losing the things we love. I think grief also runs in this same vein- we grieve over losing people we love. But to say fear=love=grief is a stretch for me.
The verse May refers to (1 John 4: 18) actually says:
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”
I think of love like a candle being lit in a darkened room. Where there is candlelight, darkness simply can’t exist. Where there is perfect love, fear has no room to stand.
Despite disagreeing with May’s “fear equation,” I think he’s spot-on when describing the threshold an extreme emotion can create within us. I went through a time of grief a couple of years ago and all throughout my mourning I had an awareness that I’d been plunged into something 100% and potent.
My intense grief was an avenue for me to see and experience a side of God’s tenderness that I never knew before. I read that God has special mercies for the orphan and the widow. Now, my undiluted grief pressed me into His arms like I’d never been before and I partook of that orphan-mercy for myself. It was a fascinating and exhilarating time, as awful as the circumstances were.
I am grateful for what it produced in me and obviously it’s left an impression.
What thoughts does this naming of the Power “Wisdom” provoke in you?
I believe May is winding nearer to truth here. At least, I hope he is. (I’ve not read the entire book yet so I may be in for a surprise!) Wisdom may be personified in the Scriptures as a female, but who is that Wisdom really? It’s the Lord. I do believe the Lord can speak profound truth through nature, wisdom for living and knowing Him.
This is something I’m seeking right now as I disciple my children. What can God teach us- what wisdom does He have to impart to us- through His created, natural world? We are trying to learn to listen, to slow, to stop speaking and striving and filling our moments with activity. To see what can be learned from the Wisdom of nature.
Liz,
I remember when I first read about your mother’s accident. It was a year after, maybe? I was amazed. The resilience of the human spirit never ceases to amaze me. And yes, these are the situations I was referring to when I spoke of coping. But, I think, as Ana said, we can still hear that small voice of wisdom through the sorrow…even in coping. These things are not linear…rather, grief has that ebb and flow of a river.
Erin,
I’m glad you came back for more sharing!
I’m totally with you on the love-fear thing. Exactly where my mind went when I initially read this part. I love how you say this:
“My intense grief was an avenue for me to see and experience a side of God’s tenderness that I never knew before.”
Yes! He wants to hold us during those times. Rob Bell has a great video on this in his Nooma series.
I agree with you that the Lord speaks through nature. The earth declares his glory. Learning to slow is the challenge, is it not? We’ve had some good discussion on that issue.
Looking forward to more!