LEARNING TO NOT BE AFRAID
BY KAREN DAVIDSON, LAS VEGAS
Title: Learning To Not Be Afraid
Source: Living Buddhism 01/05 v.9 n.1 p.12 Las Vegas
Author: Davidson
As the daughter of a violent, alcoholic father and a schizophrenic mother, you might say I was
born to be bipolar.
Growing up manic-depressive, the oldest of a brood of siblings with similar psychological
issues, I turned into a typical sixties drug-culture teenager: I self-medicated. Because I spent
most of my time in the manic phase, trying to avoid the crashing depressions, I would seek out
the type of drugs that revved me up — speed to get an energized feeling, psychedelics to escape
the reality. I had been an insomniac since early childhood; I didn’t sleep much to begin with and
liked having lots of energy to do things.
It was through a drug connection that I ran into Nichiren Buddhism around 1962. I didn’t
take the guy seriously, but oddly enough, every summer for the next ten years, someone would
tell me about Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. While hitchhiking through California, I’d chant to get a
ride and be safe. That’s about as involved as I wanted to be.
My first SGI-USA activity was a women’s meeting I attended in January 1975. Actually, I was
only there for the Japanese food. I kept nodding my head in agreement as each person spoke, but
I planned to leave the meeting as soon as possible. Instead, I received the Gohonzon twenty minutes later.
At the time I received the Gohonzon, I was experiencing extreme manic symptoms. From the
beginning of my practice, this made it difficult to for me to sit still and chant.
For the next ten years, I suffered from many physical illnesses: asthma, irritable bowel syndrome, and cancer, to name just a few. I struggled to overcome each new sickness, doing my best
not to give up. Working, raising my children, and taking on responsibilities in the SGI was overwhelming, but I did my best to continue in faith, even during radiation and chemotherapy treatments.
When I found out that I had cancer for the third time, I was in shock; I felt completely overwhelmed. Good health seemed to be an impossible dream for me. Supportive SGI leaders were
always around me, however, and I continued studying Buddhism, even while I was in the doctors’ offices. Reading passages from Nichiren’s writings like this one spurred me on: “Nammyoho-renge-kyo is like the roar of a lion. What sickness can therefore be an obstacle?… A
sword is useless in the hands of a coward” (“Reply to Kyo’o,” The Writings of Nichiren
Daishonin, p. 412).
In spite of everything, through the power of the Mystic Law, I mustered up the courage to continue to seek encouragement from seniors in faith, go to activities, and study Nichiren’s writings
and SGI President Ikeda’s guidance. My physical health improved, and I introduced other
patients, nurses, and doctors to this practice.
But I just couldn’t seem to live fully in the present moment. I started having one serious problem after another — the kind that occur from remaining in the past or living in the intangible
future rather than focusing completely on the present. I became more manic than ever before. I
felt ashamed for being in such a life-condition; I was negative and resentful, constantly complaining about my difficulties. Frequently, I had ill feelings toward my leaders, who were trying
to help me continue to practice.
It’s not always obvious when someone has cancer, but everyone can see a cast. In 1986, I had
an accident at work, which resulted in an injured lower back and two ruptured disks. Looking
back, I realize that this was a crucial turning point in my life. I had two major surgeries on my
back; I underwent nine months of full-time rehabilitation and therapy — eight hours a day, five
days a week. I had to learn how to walk, sit, lie down, and get up. I was in constant pain.
Ultimately, despite all my prayers and efforts for three years, I still had 17 percent permanent disability in my right leg. Instead of being appreciative that I was at least able to walk, I was very discouraged. I suffered not because of my physical condition but because of my negative attitude.
Each day, I chanted to stop feeling like a victim and to appreciate my life instead. I began to
understand that I was relinquishing my personal power by allowing my physical and mental
problems to control my life.
But understanding something doesn’t always mean the situation will immediately change.
Nichiren wrote that the inner workings of one’s mind are manifested in the body. My mind was
working overtime and my body was becoming very fatigued.
In the early 1990s, I became seriously ill with a thyroid condition. I received guidance many
times as I continued to seek solutions for my difficulties. The doctors started experimenting with
different prescriptions: pain pills, muscle relaxants, antidepressants, and other mood-altering
drugs, while I endured radiation therapy for my thyroid. The amount of medication I needed to
maintain my life functions was out of control, and finally, my kidneys revolted.
For the next three years, I had mood swings that were more extreme than ever; my condition
got even worse. Then, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a very painful disorder that meant even
more medication. I actually broke my neck from vomiting with so much force. On reflection, I
realized that I harbored the belief I would never be healthy. Though my life had changed on some
levels, I knew I needed to change something in my life on an even deeper level. I thought about
my attitude and beliefs more seriously. I went back into therapy and realized how fear-based my
life had been. I worried about everything. I always anticipated the worst possible scenario or outcome of anything that was happening in my life.
The doctors began talking about putting me on kidney dialysis. At that very moment, which
was filled with dread, everything clicked: all my efforts and all the things I had ever learned from
my practice came together to show me that fear was what triggered my manic episodes — the fear
of life — and that it was the underlying cause of all my physical ailments. I realized that I had to
chant with greater resolve, with a fearless determination. I chanted to break free from this cycle
and become liberated. Also, I wanted to get off all the medications.
I started looking for holistic alternatives for curing or managing my illnesses. I studied a lot
about alternative health care and found a mainstream physician who combined acupuncture with
holistic treatment. I discovered that some bipolar tendencies are exacerbated by diet, and that I
was allergic to wheat and corn. Reactions to those foods can cause manic behavior as well as put
a strain on the liver and kidneys.
I began to experience some really profound life changes that I could never have achieved without my Buddhist practice. This gave me the courage to challenge myself and to radically change
my life by doing human revolution and facing my fundamental darkness. I realized that I am
accountable for my own thoughts, speech, and actions. I began to penetrate the inner depths of
my life and to have more control. My life radically changed, and I no longer need to take the bipolar medication. I feel courage rather than fear.
It took a lot of effort and self-reflection for me to arrive at this point. The practice of Nichiren
Buddhism is not magic. I had to apply myself, to become accountable for my own life. My experiences have shown me that anything is possible. I still have to struggle with my basic life tendencies, and every day I rely on my Buddhist practice to manifest courage. I’ve learned not to be
afraid of my own feelings, to live a healthier existence, and to appreciate my life. Each day means
a new opportunity to prove the validity of Buddhism by making the impossible possible. After
all, with Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, what sickness can be an obstacle?
—As told to Natalie Bates
