On one memorable late spring day, I took a day trip by high-speed train north from Tokyo to the Ibaraki Prefecture. I wanted to visit the Hananuki Valley and Gorge, home to crystal-clear waters and a dense verdant forest. The Japanese sought out this place to decelerate their lives spent in bustling cities. <\/p>\n
Following the trail, I reached a suspension bridge called Shiomidaki that crossed a narrow gorge. Below, I heard the bubbling melody of a stream. On either side was a dense woodland of Japanese maple trees, flush with fresh green leaves of spring. I stopped at the edge of the bridge\u2014the drop to the water was probably five feet or so.<\/p>\n
Let your fears speak honestly<\/h2>\n
\n
On the far side of the bridge, I noticed a Buddhist monk wearing an orange-coloured outer robe. His head was shaded by a bowl-like hat made of straw. He walked onto the bridge with delicate steps, but with each step, the bridge swayed a bit. He kept a steady, slow pace, without flinching or looking down. However, my mind reeled with fearful thoughts because of the sway.<\/p>\n
He stopped alongside me, lifted his head and gave me a slight smile. In remarkably clear English, he asked if I was American. I answered yes. The old monk studied my face and said he could see fear there, adding that it isn\u2019t helpful to be afraid of the fear.<\/p>\n
I gave him a quizzical look but responded that I was afraid. All these years, I\u2019ve remembered what he subsequently said to me. He thought my honesty was a positive first step. He reminded me that he\u2019d safely walked across the bridge, but I should let my fear speak to me, rather than simply pushing it down. It wasn\u2019t my enemy. Then with a clearer mind, I could decide what to do or what not to do.<\/p>\n
He held up his hands in a prayerful gesture. If I reached old age, he hoped I\u2019d have a meditation practice so that the barking dog of fear wouldn\u2019t be so loud. Meditation, he believed, was a bridge to a more peaceful mind. Then he walked on, out of my life, but he left me with his wisdom. <\/p>\n
Sitting down on a bench by the bridge, I let fear have its say first, but then what popped into my mind was a memory from my childhood years, totally forgotten until that moment.<\/p>\n
Our \u201cnarrow place\u201d<\/h2>\n
\n
Our lesson at synagogue school one Saturday morning was about Passover, a major Jewish holiday. The rabbi explained that Passover recalled the miracle of our people\u2019s liberation by the hand of G-D after being enslaved for more than 400 years in Egypt.<\/p>\n
The Hebrew word for Egypt is mitzrayim<\/em>, which meant \u201cthe narrow place,\u201d as slaves were constricted in every aspect of their lives. The rabbi told us that our Exodus story is also about our own liberation from things that hold us back\u2014our narrow place.<\/p>\n I realized that my fear was mitzrayim<\/em>. I reminded myself that I\u2019d faced mitzrayim<\/em> many times. I didn\u2019t follow the safe and narrow path when it came to things of paramount importance to me. Yes, I suffered tough times and made mistakes, but I also found that my willingness to take risks in order to find a better place, relationship or situation always steered me to new possibilities. <\/p>\n My life journey expanded when I was no longer ruled by unacknowledged fear. Every step forward required the one before.<\/p>\nCrossing Shiomidaki Bridge\u2014and another<\/h2>\n
\n![\"suspension](\"https:\/\/cdn.shortpixel.ai\/spai\/q_lossy+ret_img+to_auto\/eadn-wc05-103229.nxedge.io\/cdn\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/10\/suspension-bridge-hananuki-gorge.jpg\" "\\"THE")