Fearless

by Fiona Higgins

  Janelle glanced around the group. ‘Well, one of the reasons my last relationship ended was my fear of flying. It’s a full-blown phobia, and in the past it’s stopped me doing certain things. The only way I can force myself onto an aeroplane is to drink alcohol beforehand—and lots of it.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘When I turned twenty-nine recently, I realised I was at a crossroad. I could stay stuck in a rut and let fear rule my life, or I could start making changes. When I read about Fearless online, I booked in straight away.’ She laughed nervously. ‘My family and friends think I’ve gone crazy.’

  Pak Tony smiled. ‘Well, congratulations on getting yourself to Bali.’

  The group applauded politely.

  ‘Apart from your fear of flying, how else do you think your life might need changing, Janelle?’ Pak Tony asked. ‘As I said to Annie, sometimes phobias or fixations mask much deeper fears.’

  The Australian hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. There’s nothing wrong with my life in Melbourne, really. I go to work, come home, spend my weekends with family and friends.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s pretty good, most of the time.’

  ‘Too predictable, perhaps?’

  ‘Not now I’ve turned my life upside down.’ She grinned. ‘But ordinarily, yes.’

  ‘We’ll explore that further in your pow-wow, then. You’ve started a journey of change, and that’s wonderful, but we don’t want you slipping back into old habits when you go home. Thank you, Janelle.’

  She sat down, and Pak Tony nodded at the man on her other side. ‘Your turn.’

  The man was tall and athletic, with a neatly clipped goatee and a grin almost as broad as his shoulders. His tousled fringe kept falling across his chocolate-brown eyes. Annie had initially imagined that he might be a Canadian Mountie, but decided that he was a tad too dishevelled for that.

  ‘I am Remy,’ he announced, with a European accent that surprised her. ‘You can probably hear that I am French. I have never been to Asia before, so I am feeling extremely hot right now.’ He turned his back on the group. ‘Look at my shirt, wet all over. My friends would be disgusted.’ Remy held out his t-shirt and flapped it back and forth, as he turned to face the group.

  ‘I will tell you what I am afraid of. I have a big problem with heights. Since I was small, I have been getting vertigo. I am thirty-one now, and it is still the same. When it is very bad I fall over, like Henry.’ He motioned to the Englishman. ‘This would be no problem if I stayed on the ground, n’est-ce pas? But for seven years I am working in the finance industry. Where do all the banks have their headquarters? The investment firms? The brokers? Pfff!’ Remy closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. ‘Always in tall buildings.’

  Annie smiled, quickly warming to him.

  ‘Lucky for me, I am Parisian,’ he went on, ‘so we have mostly old buildings that can only be six storeys high. My office is on the fourth floor. But two months ago, my boss asked me to do a presentation in one of the towers at La Défense. They are very ugly and hard to find your way around.’ He glanced around the group. ‘Has anyone been there?’

  No one had.

  ‘The meeting was in the tallest tower, two hundred and thirty-one metres high. I told myself I could do it. Maybe it would get me the promotion I am wanting for three years? I prepared well, I did my research. But when I caught the elevator to the forty-second floor, the doors opened and there were big glass windows in front of me and—’ He lowered his chin to his chest, looking glum.

  ‘Suddenly there was an emergency inside of me. I tried to ignore it … a colleague was with me, and I could not let him down. I kept away from the windows and started my presentation, but soon I was feeling sick and imagining terrible things … a tsunami of pictures in my brain. First I am seeing the windows blowing out, then the building collapsing. Then in real life, everything went dark at the edges of my eyes, and a moment later—’ he slapped his hands together—‘I am looking at the ceiling from the floor.’

  ‘It was a catastrophe. For me, my colleague, the whole company. We did not win the bid and certainly there was no promotion for me. Bof!’ Remy shrugged. ‘Not only that, my boss told me to take time off and see a doctor. He prescribed anxiety tablets, but I do not like putting chemicals in my body. So I asked the doctor for something else, and he told me to try desensitisation therapy. I looked that up online, and found Fearless.’

  Pak Tony grinned. ‘Ah! My website keywords are working, then.’

  Annie frowned, troubled by this flippant comment.

  ‘Actually, I like that phrase you used, Remy,’ the facilitator continued. ‘An emergency inside of me. This is true for all kinds of phobias and fears. It is definitely how we feel when we are in the grip of something irrational. But the good news is, we can train our minds to manage the emergency.’

  ‘Remy?’ Janelle piped up. ‘Are you afraid of aeroplanes too, or just heights?’

  Remy turned to Janelle with interest. ‘That is a very good question. It is strange, actually. On aeroplanes, I do not worry. It is like I am sitting in my apartment in Saint-Germain-des-Prés, only it is much smaller and the chair is uncomfortable and the food is ’orrible.’ His French accent emphasised the word, and the group laughed. ‘The problem is when I’m in the open air, or near a window, or sometimes in an elevator or stairway. I have never been up the Eiffel Tower. But on aeroplanes, I can take an aisle seat and watch movies. I feel like I have no control, and that is liberating.’

  ‘But that’s exactly why I hate aeroplanes!’ said Janelle, giggling. ‘I feel totally out of control.’

  Remy laughed too, a deep, infectious rumble. ‘We are like the sun and moon, then,’ he said, grinning back at Janelle. ‘Opposites.’

  Pak Tony cleared his throat. ‘Phobias can feel very controlling, but they’re actually much easier to treat than some other fears. We’ll discuss phobia management strategies in your pow-wow, Remy.’

  The Frenchman inclined his head in a little bow, then sat back down.

  Pak Tony turned to the only member of the group who had not yet spoken, seated on the other side of Remy. ‘Cara. Would you like to tell us about yourself and why you’re here?’

  The woman rose to her feet. Her frame seemed gaunt beneath loose yoga clothes, and her honey-coloured hair was uncombed. Her skin was pallid and flaky, her eyes a milky blue. Annie guessed she was in her early forties.

  ‘Thank you,’ the woman said softly. ‘I’m Cara. From Sydney originally, but Bali’s been my home for the last four years.’

  Annie was surprised she hadn’t seen Cara in any of the cafés frequented by the expatriate community in Ubud.

  ‘I’m a print journalist by trade,’ Cara went on, ‘but I only write online content now. I heard about Fearless a few years ago through a yoga studio, but I’ve never quite made it along. This year, I decided …’ She seemed to lose her way mid-sentence, and stopped, pondering a spot just above Pak Tony’s head. ‘I’m joining now because …’ She trailed off again, her gaze floating further up towards the ceiling. Annie began to wonder whether Cara, like Henry, was afraid of public speaking.

  After a long pause, Cara said, ‘I lost someone four years ago and my whole life just … disintegrated. My yoga teacher thinks it’s made me afraid of intimacy, of letting others in. She seems to think that this retreat might help.’ Her expression remained impassive.

  ‘And do you think your yoga teacher is right?’ Pak Tony asked.

  Cara sighed. ‘Probably.’

  Pak Tony nodded sympathetically. ‘Loss is the shadow side of love, and one of life’s hardest lessons. When we lose someone, we often respond by shutting ourselves off from the rest of the world, for fear of losing others. But we can’t stop loving for fear of loss, just as we can’t stop living for fear of death.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m even capable of love anymore,’ said Cara softly. ‘I’m numb, even after four years.’

  Annie found herself nodding. She’d felt the same way after Kevin’s death, trapped in an
emotional limbo. It had taken years for her to start feeling anything at all. And even when the feelings had returned—the thrill of business success on the ranch, the joy of her children’s graduations, or the quiet pain of her parents’ passing—they had felt strangely muted. She’d kept her emotions in check, somehow, since Kevin died; but she’d never labelled it a fear of loss, as Pak Tony described it. Annie had simply understood it as the way things were after the dissolution of her world before.

  Pak Tony smiled at Cara. ‘But your yoga teacher seems to think differently. She believes you have the capacity to love again, Cara.’

  The woman sighed once more. ‘I still have family and friends back in Sydney, and I love them, of course. But I could never start a relationship again. Not without ruining it.’

  ‘Because you ruined things in the past?’ Pak Tony prompted gently.

  Cara’s facial expression briefly conveyed such self-contempt that Annie felt like leaping up and hugging her. Something terrible had happened to this woman, Annie thought; her face seemed to reflect the same ravages of grief that Annie had observed in the mirror for years after Kevin’s death. How had it happened for Cara? Annie wondered, but didn’t dare ask.

  Pak Tony gestured at Cara to sit down. ‘There’s no need to push things now. We have plenty of time to go deeper. Thank you, Cara.’

  The Australian resumed her cushion, her head bowed.

  It was Pak Tony who stood now to address the group. ‘You have all given something of yourselves this morning, thank you. That takes strength of character, especially when we’re all so new to each other. If you forget anyone’s name, here’s a list.’ He indicated a small board affixed to the wall, on which their names and nationalities were written:

  Annie—United States

  Remy—France

  Janelle—Australia

  Cara—Australia

  Henry—United Kingdom

  Lorenzo—Italy

  ‘Look at those countries—all red, white and blue flags.’ Pak Tony smiled. ‘Except for Lorenzo, whose plane has been delayed. He’ll be joining us at morning break. We have a nice balance of men and women too, and a good spread of countries—with an extra Australian, of course.’

  Of course, Annie mused. That was typical of Bali, where Australians outnumbered every other foreign nationality by at least two to one. In fact, not long after her arrival, Nathan at BAF had told her that there were eighty thousand Australians in Bali on any one day. She’d dismissed this figure as grossly inflated, until the first time she’d visited Kuta Beach. There, around every poolside bar or sunset barbecue, were garrulous mobs of Australians downing bottles of Bintang, basting themselves in the sun, or watching Aussie Rules football on huge flat screens. They were friendly enough, Annie had discovered, despite their sometimes incomprehensible accents.

  ‘So let’s get started,’ said Pak Tony, spreading his arms wide. ‘Welcome to Fearless! Thank you so much for committing to arrive today, a Sunday. We always like to start these retreats on the first day of the month, there’s a certain magic about it. I also find it takes a day or so for participants to settle in and get to know each other a little, before commencing the retreat more intensively. For the past ten years, Fearless has been helping people from across the globe to transform their lives. By the end of our week together, you will all be embracing your innate gifts and potential. You will be far less fearful, and considerably more life-full.’

  Annie heard a voice from beyond the pavilion; a woman sounded upset outside. What language was she speaking?

  ‘The fears you have shared this morning are among what the research tells us are the top ten human fears,’ Pak Tony went on. ‘These include flying, heights and public speaking—which covers Janelle, Remy and Henry. Then there’s the fear of intimacy and the fear of death, for Cara and Annie. These are very common fears; millions of people around the world are going through exactly what you are. To fear is human.’

  Annie raised her hand. She wasn’t afraid of death, she wanted to point out.

  ‘Just a moment, Annie.’ Pak Tony’s piercing blue eyes moved across the group. ‘Over the next few days, you may find that new fears bubble up inside you, some of which you weren’t aware of before. If this is the case, don’t be too concerned. We will help you to face them in a constructive, life-affirming way. Yes, Annie?’ His eyes settled on her.

  ‘I’m afraid of snakes, Pak Tony,’ she observed crisply. ‘And I’d like to know what made you become a Fearless facilitator?’

  Pak Tony smiled. ‘It’s all on the website.’

  ‘But I can’t remember much,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that terrible?’ The truth was, she’d been so desperate to get away from BAF after the snake incident that she’d barely scanned his biography.

  The facilitator looked momentarily pained, before his smile returned. ‘I’ll give you the abridged version,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to get through this morning.’

  Annie nodded.

  ‘I grew up in Rotterdam in the Netherlands,’ he started, ‘but it wasn’t a pleasant experience. I was the classic overweight, pimply kid who no one liked. I spent my school years running away from bullies, hiding behind bushes and trying not to get noticed by the cool kids. University wasn’t much better. I was quite interested in campus life and I did well in my business degree, but I’d developed such severe acne by then that I avoided most social situations. It was crippling for me.’

  Annie scanned the facilitator’s smooth jaw; it was difficult to imagine pustules there.

  ‘I tried everything—from prescription drugs to Chinese herbs and magic honey from New Zealand—but nothing helped. The acne turned me into a recluse. By the time I graduated, it had killed my self-esteem. I took a junior job in sales, an obvious role for a business graduate, but I felt like I couldn’t face the world. I started taking more and more days off work …’

  Pak Tony’s expression suddenly lightened. ‘And then one miraculous day in my mid-twenties, I was at the library when I stumbled across a Dutch translation of You Can Heal Your Life by Louise L. Hay. That book was a turning point for me. It was the moment I realised that toxic thoughts and fears were at the root of my skin problems. In fact, they’re the cause of almost every problem. Once I understood that, I began to reclaim my power. I started to use my thoughts for good. Not only did I heal my acne, but I started having a positive effect on others too.’

  Annie pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to thrust her hand into the air again. Having watched her own elderly parents become sick, deteriorate and then die—while maintaining forebearance and good humour throughout—Annie had little time for the idea that sickness was somehow a reflection of a person’s interior world.

  ‘I retrained in executive coaching,’ continued Pak Tony, ‘and then I started running positive psychology courses in Kralingen. I did that for almost ten years until I was lucky enough to meet my wife, Etna, on one of those courses. She’s a homeopath and an entrepreneur. It was a true meeting of minds and hearts for us. Etna’s father is Balinese and her mother is Dutch, so we straddle both cultures now.’ He smiled again, too triumphantly for Annie’s liking. She thought she detected a timid knock from the direction of the door, but Pak Tony didn’t waver.

  ‘We designed the Fearless retreat together about twelve years ago. We also offer two-week retreats for people with specific health issues and a three-day program called Manifesting Your Best Life. So we are kept very busy all year round.’

  Pak Tony pushed his silvery hair behind his shoulders, before continuing. ‘After experimenting with a few different venues in Bali, we based ourselves here at Puri Damai. We’ve got an international reputation now, and we’re growing exponentially. I do the facilitation and Etna runs the administration. Obviously we have a great team of local staff too, and the results speak for themselves. Whatever fears people arrive with—and I’ve seen some unusual ones—we’ve never failed to guide our clients towards their higher truth by their departure.’
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  And how would clients know they’d attained their higher truth? Annie wondered dubiously. It wasn’t like a tourist destination, helpfully signposted.

  There was a knocking at the door, Annie was certain now. Pak Tony’s face twitched, but he made no move to respond.

  ‘Excuse me, Pak Tony,’ said Janelle. ‘What are some of the unusual fears you’ve seen?’

  Pak Tony smiled. ‘Well, we had a young man who suffered from somniphobia, the fear of falling asleep. Then there was the chaetophobic lady, she was afraid of body hair …’

  ‘She would not like me, then,’ said Remy wryly, pushing his fringe out of his eyes.

  An abrupt, loud knocking made them all turn towards the door.

  Pak Tony pursed his lips. ‘I do apologise, friends. Sometimes the staff forget that we are not to be interrupted. Wait a moment, please.’

  He strode to the door and opened it with a flourish.

  Lorenzo had tried to divert her, but Lavinia would not be dissuaded. The driver—a stoic Balinese named Pak Ketut—stood outside the retreat venue, shuffling from foot to foot. He pointed repeatedly at a wooden plaque attached to the door, carved with an image of a man sitting cross-legged in meditation pose, one finger pressed against his lips. It was an incontrovertible sign for ‘do not disturb’, but Lavinia kept disputing this.

  ‘Just knock, please,’ she insisted. ‘We are only a little bit late.’

  The driver knocked, but barely made a sound, then turned to Lavinia. ‘Mrs Lavinia, I am very sorry. Pak Tony has a rule, we must never interrupt his retreats in progress, unless it is an emergency.’

  Lorenzo looked at Pak Ketut with growing pity. His three-year marriage to Lavinia had taught him that her juggernaut of righteousness could rarely be repelled.

  ‘This is an emergency,’ said Lavinia, flicking her dark tresses over bare, sun-kissed shoulders. ‘I was supposed to be at the Shakti Centre three hours ago for an important appointment. I won’t wait any longer—please tell Pak Tony we’re here. It will be my interruption, not yours.’