Fear

We went walking again (in the middle of) the other night. Me, Rinpoche and five other boys. I donned my fittest dri-fit Nikes, rummaged for socks and was all ready to go.

This time, we were off walking in another park - more hills, more upward climbs and a whole lot more sweating. We started off on a neverending 3km of slope. As we set off, Rinpoche decided we would play a game of New News. Everyone, in turn, was to give one new bit of news - as a way to gauge how perceptive we've been about the things around us, and how we see and interpret things. "You give me your new news, but also concentrate on your walking." It was all too impossible, tiring, pant pant, but we trudged along and racked our brains for the most exciting thing we've come across in the last 24 hours.

JJ and I stood at the back and plotted what news we'd tell. We made a deal - which news he'd tell, and which news I'd tell. A girl wants to sound intelligent, after all.

As we panted along though, I wondered how I would even find enough breath to tell my story. It was like those classic tales of Buddha, where the bad guy walks behind Buddha and tries to catch up to him. No matter how fast he walks or runs, Buddha always remains at the same distance away, and he can never catch up the distance. Felt exactly that, that day. I swear, no matter how fast I made my little feet move, the Buddha remained way up ahead.

We turned round a bend, to face a narrow trail that went off the main path. Rinpoche halted dead in his tracks, grabbed Joey and pointed into the trail. "Do you see it? There, to the right. Right there. Can you see it?"

Joey, the numbskull, was all "Yes yes! I see it," though none of us really believed him. Rinpoche described him to us - crouching, white-eyed, looking to the ground. He grabbed all the boys in turn to ask if they saw anything. I didn't see anything, of course. I'm sure if I tripped over something crouching and white-eyed, I wouldn't even know. Rinpoche said, "Okay, he's starting to look at us now, let's go."

We carried on the trail, quietly, with out hands clasped obediently behind us, feeling like the air was heavy. None of us really knew if he was being serious or not - there's no doubt there are "things" out there, and there's no doubt that Rinpoche knows about them. Whether they're really there or not - well, that was up to what we each believed.

Further along, down another bend in the road, we came across another narrow, bumpy trail, heading far off into a horrid, dark, mesh of blackness. We stopped again, this time to listen. Joey, again, said, "Yes! I hear something! Like a static." Rinpoche gave us a demonstration of what he was hearing - a low, creepy crying sound which made all of us want to bolt. He asked us in turn, "Do you hear it?" and each of us in turn (except eager Joey) said no. When he'd asked all of us, and we'd all said no, he burst into a big laugh and said, "Well, that's because there's nothing there! There's no crying sound! There's no crouching man with white-eyes!"

The Buddhas, must have been looking down from their lotus seats and doubled up in laughter at our guile. But still, I couldn't quite figure out if he was really joking or not. You never quite know with Rinpoche, after all. Things can always take an unlikely turn.

By now, I felt like my legs were about to break from all the walking - more an indication of how unfit I was than anything else. We rounded back to where we started and Rinpoche asked what time it was. James perked up and said, "We just do another 10 minutes?"

And just because of that, of course, it would end up being much longer.

We went rounding the hill again, and before we knew it, were back at the doorstep of the little crouching, white-eyed man... if indeed, he was actually there, we still didn't quite know.

Rinpoche bounded along, all smiles, grabbed JJ's hand and said, "Let's go visit him!" before he traipsed up the little trail, all rocky and narrow and slidey. I grabbed on to James' arm, braced myself for the dark and up I went.

We walked, further and further and further. The street light on the path was got distant enough for us to really notice how black the blackness actually was. I tried to do the Om Holy Thing and told myself off for not having enough faith in the Guru and Three Jewels to keep me safe. The Buddha is right there, what fear should there be?! But then, when you never quite know if the crouching man may just suddenly shine white and luminous in the dark like a Ju-on character, you can't help but feel terribly jumpy.

Rinpoche finally stopped. James and I found ourselves shunted right behind the group, our backs exposed to all the weird sounds, colours, shifting shapes with their neon eyes.

Then he said, "You check your minds now. Are you scared? Does your mind feel fear? How much fear you have is how strong your ego is."

The teaching evolved to Rinpoche telling us about a monk in Gaden, Gen Nyima who was renowned for his solitary retreats in deep, dark Bhutanese forests, just as dark as this one; who then became a renowned practitioner for his extraordinary attainments and healing abilities; who remained, in spite of everything, deeply humble and compassionate.

I had my recorder on go - I wasn't going to miss this teaching for nothing, not even if a hand came out from nowhere and snatched it from me. And as the teaching went on, and the little luminous numbers ticked by on the recorder, we loosened out tight little huddle, spaced ourselves out, got comfortable and relaxed into the security blanket of Dharma. Suddenly, this was the safest place in the world.

Rinpoche asked, "Are you still scared? Where has your fear gone?" We checked, and the fear had gone. He explained that if the fear can go, it means that it isn't permanent - just like all the rest of our temporary happinesses, sadness, angers. If all those - as symptoms of our ego - aren't permanent, they can be removed. And once the symptoms are removed, the real root of our illness - ego - can also be removed, to reveal a mind of total clarity, wisdom, light in the middle of a pitch black forest trail.

There are tests all the time, and Rinpoche will make you pass each one if you're willing enough to even take out your pencils and go for the test. As the six of us bounced along the hill and crept into forest trails, it was a constant test of our fears and egos - and being forced to face them.

There was also the usual - the banter, the jokes, the tricks that Rinpoche would play among those of us who were unsuspecting, sleepy and unaware. There was the recollection of new news, to test how much of an interest we took in the work and world around us. There was analysis, explanations, Dharma teachings that sprung out of Rinpoche's sneakers.

And perhaps, just perhaps, a little hunched man with white eyes who trotted alongside us to listen to what was being said.