Filtering Fear Two

To people who think of themselves as God's houseguests, American enterprise must seem arrogant beyond belief. Or stupid. A nation of amnesiacs, proceeding as if there were no other day but today. Assuming the land could also forget what had been done to it. - Barbara Kingsolver in "Animal Dreams."

Day 226. What a conundrum. Blogworthy thoughts are marching through my mind like Texas fire ants at a chili cook-off, and I need to be packing for a tandem trip. Yup, that's right. Tandem trip. With my captain, nay, (former) partner. Fact is stranger than fiction. It will be a great twist to the movie plot.

I've read research concluding that stupid people do not know they are stupid. For real. Published research derived from sound methodology, written by credible authors in professional journals. The word "stupid" carries such negative connotation (not to mention associations to the movie "Forest Gump"), we reflexively recoil from it as though the police of political correctness are lurking nearby, pens poised over a citation with our name on it. In the articles I read, stupid wasn't necessarily a derogatory term. It referenced specific impediments to approaching tasks in a "smart" way, including lack of knowledge, ignorance, inadequate education, limited exposure, difficulty with problem solving, poor observational skills, and deficient abstract reasoning abilities. The research emphasized that if stupid people were aware of their stupidity, they would do something about it like ask for assistance, increase their education and exposure, practice new reasoning skills, etc. Unfortunately, a characteristic of stupidity is the inability to recognize it. Stupid people stay stupid.

Before you predict that Buddha will be kicking me out of his club, let me elaborate. There are connections between stupidity and fear. Helplessness and vulnerability fertilize the soil from which fear sprouts. I am formulating a theory about why fear - the irrational, dangerous version - is permeating our culture like the words "whole grain" on cereal boxes. Bear with me; these ideas are so fresh the dopamine between my new neural pathways is still moist.

There is more to be stupid about today. Whether we anticipated it or not, the complexities of the world compounded exponentially while we were watching the first television Reality shows. Ordinary undertakings that used to require a phone call (answered by a live person on the first couple of rings), an address, and (maybe) an account number have turned into lengthy, challenging ordeals. We have to pay attention (to the annoying computerized voice directing us to eight different options for hearing the next computerized voice). We need organizational skills rivaling IRS secretaries to produce the receipt, account number, expiration date, and bar code for the priority club, coupon, frequent flier, warranty, guarantee, rebate, and/or preferred customer number that is relevant to our transaction. We are asked questions to which the response requires vocabulary words that haven't yet made it to a printed dictionary. We have cable this and cell phone that and I-pods-phones-pads and all manner of other electronic devices to research, purchase, program, personalize, maintain, keep charged, replace and upgrade. Indeed, there are infinitely more things to be stupid about.

Smart and capable people get overwhelmed with the status of modern society. Imagine the befuddlement of individuals that are not graced with average or above average intelligence (we know basic IQ is highly heritable). It is impossible to navigate the myriad complexities of today's world without occasionally (frequently?) feeling confused and inferior. Meanwhile, the cultural dictate that we outwardly APPEAR to be confident and capable is ever more strident. It is to all of our detriment that everyone is consumed with broadcasting the illusion of effortless expertise while inwardly experiencing ongoing terror that our weakness will be exposed. So we behave arrogantly. Disingenuously. Mean spiritedly. All in the service of fear. That is, masking fear.

A great deal of the malicious behavior we observe in others emanates from fear. I am formulating a solution. It is grounded in Buddhism. I think we need to compassionately accept that dwelling in the society of today implicitly requires us to be vulnerable. We CANNOT know everything, we CANNOT independently and competently navigate the complicated systems required for us to function in the world; we CANNOT expect to get things right on the first time (and keeping astride of technological advancement constantly demands we do things for the first time); we CANNOT indefinitely maintain the illusion of effortless perfection.

If we relinquish our attachment to the ridiculous notion that we have to appear as though we know everything, compassion could flourish like ragweed in late summer. How would our lives be different if we could say, with no fear of recrimination or judgment, "I need some help with this"? "I've never done this before, could you please show me?" "This is new for me, I'll need to take it slowly." "I don't know what 'pixel' means. Could you explain?" "I don't know how. Would you please walk me through it?"

The flip side to developing our own capacity to unabashedly reveal our vulnerability is to cultivate patience and kindness for others when they show theirs. "Oh, okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll show you." "Take your time, and let me know if I can help." "I remember the first time I tried that. It took me a while to figure it out." "Yeah, it's almost impossible to find that on your own. Here's where I went to learn more about it." There is a lot we can do to reassure someone when they feel fearful. It is our nature to react with mutual kindness when we receive empathic understanding from another.

So, in my early attempts to filter through fear, here is what I know: Ignorance breeds fear which fosters vulnerability which necessitates (in a culture that shuns vulnerability) arrogance and malevolence. If we trusted that exposing our vulnerability would routinely prompt kindness and assistance in others, we could display it without trepidation. There would be so much less fear. And so much more compassion.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc