I was attending a Toltec class given by my good friend and teacher, Ramin.  It was an evening class held in a classroom in one of the large buildings at the University of California, Davis. We had been working on the issue of “stalking” ourselves in order to become more aware of what we are doing, who we are, what we believe and assorted similar issues.  Stalking is a practice of learning to become more aware of yourself, your feelings, and your thoughts.

Ramin decided that we needed a little “nudge” to push us beyond our comfort zone to help us to experience the edge of our discomfort, and as an aid to practicing “being in the moment.”  It is always a bit scary when one of the Toltec teachers decides to push me beyond my comfort zone because they seem to be very skilled at finding ways to push me far beyond that boundary.  This evening was to be no exception.

Ramin told one of the other students to count the tiles on the floor the length of the hallway.  I chuckled to myself about this, thinking that it was an easy assignment and that maybe I would get off without too much perspiration from facing my fears.  It turned out that while counting the tiles would be no big deal for me, it was a really frightening and uncomfortable thing for the student with that assignment.  His problem was not with counting the tiles, which was easy enough.  His problem had to do with so many strangers watching him do a senseless activity.  For some reason, being observed doing something like that just didn’t fit into his personal agreements, making this a very difficult assignment.  It seemed easy to me because I don’t have much of a problem being observed doing some pretty silly and senseless things.

Then I got my assignment and almost fainted from fear.  My assignment was to enter all of the classrooms in the four-story building and as for assistance in locating a fictitious person.  I was to ask about the whereabouts of someone as if it were important for me to find him.  This was at a time when all of the lecture halls were being used, there were lectures going on in them all.  I learned in a flash that one of my personal agreements has to do with not unnecessarily interrupting professors when they are in the process of giving lectures.  Actually, it isn’t quite that – it is more that it is rude (and therefore unacceptable) to force my way into other’s space unless there is a good reason to do so.  This belief is probably connected with my being taught that children are to be seen but not heard. In any case, the idea of opening a door and asking the professor and students if they knew where so-and-so was did not fit into what I consider acceptable behavior.  However, it also didn’t seem to be something that was really all that bad or dangerous.  This would harm nobody, and the effects would be very short lived.  Therefore, I didn’t have a very good reason to reject the assignment.  I knew I wasn’t really hurting anyone, but that didn’t make it any easier for me.

As I approached the first room I could hardly breathe I was so frightened.  I had concocted a very short speech to be used when I opened the door, something like; “excuse me, I am looking for Jim Smith.  Has anyone seen him or know where I might find him?”  While my prepared speech was very short, I was sure that I would not be able to speak because of my nervousness. 

I was trembling and hyperventilating by the time my sweaty hand turned the first door handle.  To heighten my fears, the door led to a large lecture hall filled with students and a professor at the blackboard in front.  I blurted out my speech, barely waiting for a response before I apologized for the interruptions and thanked them.  I closed the left and closed the door as fast as I could, feeling a brief relief as the door closed.  Of course, that didn’t really solve my problem because there were dozens of doors still to be opened.  As I went from floor to floor doing this I found a variety of reactions to my rude interruptions.  Most people took it in stride, answered politely and let me go my way.  A couple of the professors showed great displeasure at being interrupted, but let me get an answer nevertheless.  Only one professor prevented me from getting an answer.  In one room a student claimed to know the fictitious person, but luckily didn’t know where he was!  I should have been more careful in choosing a name. It would have been very confusing if a person with the name had been in the classroom.

When I started this exercise I assumed that it would be bad to begin with, but would get better as I got used to the experience.  I figured that after a couple of rooms I would be “hardened” enough to just go through the actions.  However, that was not to be.  It didn’t get easier, in fact it got much harder the more I did it.  I never was able to get the feeling of terror out of my chest, never was able to stop hyperventilating and sweating.  It got so bad that at about at the midpoint I was on the verge of quitting the project, it was just too horrible to continue.  I knew that there were students in the halls as I went from door to door, but I was so upset that I couldn’t see them, or meet their glances.  It was like I was in some kind of a cocoon, separate from the rest of the world.  All that I could focus on was my fear, the doors, and my little speech.   I did continue, and was greatly relieved when I finally closed the last door.  I felt like running away from there. I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of the building.  When I finally got back together with Ramin and the others I could relax and laugh about it, but at the time that I was doing it there was no laughing.  Some of them said they were surprised that this was difficult for me, to them it seemed like it would be a cake walk, there was nothing at all to fear in such a thing.

This was a very interesting exercise in facing my fears, and continuing in the face of them.  I have used it on a number of occasions to remind myself that even though I might be frightened and have all of the bodily experiences that come with that fear, I can actually keep acting.  The fear doesn’t have to paralyze me like I thought it would.  I also learned the power of our personal agreements.  I wouldn’t have had a problem counting tiles, but the other student did because it went against his private, irrational agreements about what is “right” and “wrong.” 

As I sit here and recall the experience it isn’t really clear what my agreements were that I was violating, or just why it was so scary.  It seems like I should be able to do such a thing without blinking, but I suspect it would still hold all of the fear that it did on that evening if I were to do it again.  I seem to have very powerful agreements that most of the times are invisible.  However, when things are just right – they are full of power and can easily take control of me.  It is an interesting thing to experience these hidden stories and then watch them vanish from sight again, only to return unexpectedly when things line up just right.

There was another important aspect of this exercise besides scaring the daylights out of me.  Ramin had managed to find a way to get me to shift my assemblage point and to hold it there for an extended period of time.  The reason that I felt out of touch with those around me was that I was shifted, and that caused me to be out of touch with normal reality.  I had entered a bit of the “other reality” that Carlos Castaneda talks about in his books.  This was an exercise in learning to move, and hold, my assemblage point, which is an important skill for following the path to enlightenment.  It was very much of an energetic exercise, not just a simple mind game.