Some years ago I was punched in the face by a stranger while waiting for a bus at midnight across from City Hall. These two guys came up, drunk, and one slugged me in the jaw. I stood up without a word, turned, and walked away while the dude was held back by his friend. I’ve thought about that night often. One takeaway I believed was that my deepest instinct was one of non-reaction in the face of crisis.

Today I was walking in the new Mission Bay neighborhood and exploring another newly opened park. I was listening to a podcast about Buddhist meditation and “transcendence.” The waterside park was gorgeous, green, and full of folks. Over the earbuds in my ears I heard a thunderous roar and looked up to see the Giants stadium ahead with thousands in the stands!

And then a large dog bolted at me, barking ferociously, flashing its teeth, and snapping at my legs! And I find myself kicking at this dog’s face to keep it from sinking its teeth into me! The dog continued growling, barking, and dancing back and forth avoiding my foot. The animal of my body went instantly from zero to fight mode. As I watched the dog’s moves, and kicking again to protect myself, in the periphery I see the owner rush over but make no attempt to grab the dog. In this dystopian reality the meditation podcast continued in my ears as I yelled “Grab your fucking dog” and he yelled “Don’t kick my dog!” Again, with my awareness squarely focused downward to keep me from getting bit I just see in the corner of my eye the owner move at me. In full instinct mode I assumed he was going to hit me and I lunged toward him and tried to punch him first. He said “What the fuck!” and I shoved him away by pushing against his throat. At last he grabbed his dog and dragged him away.

The encounter lasted some 12 seconds. I felt crazy, enraged, my body, hijacked by adrenaline, my pecs puffed out and my jaw clenched. I imagined I could have killed that guy had he hit me. I felt both murderous and unsafe, and I continued fearing the dog as I walked away. For two hours I felt like I could pick up a car and toss it. My mind raced trying to justify the actions this body took to protect itself. Quakers being pacifists, I was in turmoil over my identity and confused at the speed and willingness of my body to turn into a murderous machine.

Ah, but breathe Walter.

The real torture was the mind’s non-stop attempt to justify my actions. “But the dog…” “Then he…” “He could have…” “I was just…”

I tried again and again to quiet the mind and justification rushed back in, and in, and in. I could also feel the fight-energy clinging to my body and unwilling to let go. I shook my hands, waved my arms, and beat my chest, trying to shake it off and move it out. I tried to feel the Earth underneath my footsteps. I broke off some leaves, and crushed them in my hands, and inhaled their scents to ground me. After an hour I called a friend who helped me process. And some three hours after the occurrence I finally felt mostly back to normal.

I also made an effort to view the situation from a non-dual perspective. If we’re all one, if there’s no black and white, no good guy and bad guy, and if there’s no separation between myself, the dog, and that man, then what lessons could be learned? It’s hard to explain but with this query I could feel my perfectionist inclinations softening. Even with my actions being imperfect, and my basest instincts emerging, everything turned out ok.

I continued walking Mission Bay and Potrero Hill neighborhoods for several miles, this time without any podcasts playing in my ears.

I felt an intense and intuited pull to get home and take a shower. And as I stood in the hot water I imagined being re-baptized into innocence and it came to me to send metta to the man and his dog. The Buddhist practice of metta meditation is when you imagine loving kindness and goodwill emanating from the body and being sent out to be received by other beings. I wish for myself and that man no harm.