I had a client who was trying to decide on a course of action. Many possibilities were presenting themselves, like buns in a bakery, and she had the means to buy. Yet each time she moved towards a selection, fear, confusion , and doubt spoke a seductive whisper in her ear. I had a clear image of her reaching forward to make the phone call that would result in her taking classes towards a new direction. Fear was stronger than curiosity though, and the call wasn’t yet made.
Life would be so simple if we could count on fear. Imagine Fear, capitalized and dependable, as a source of protection and stability. If Fear said “don’t do this” we’d know with certainty that right action meant “don’t do this”. Fear is chatty, opinionated, and sure of each and every nook and cranny that Danger might lurk in. Could we ask for anything more? Should we?
I hope so.
Fear is a braking system, programmed on past circumstances, and often blind to present time. Remember the child who learned from his/her mother’s shout that the stove burner was hot. Fear laced her voice, and propelled her body forward at super speed to pluck him/her from danger. Was the child to imprint that all stoves are dangerous at all times? Some children seemed to think so, (we could do a survey of men) but for the majority, we grow up learning to cook, and to live on the fruit of our labours.
Fear is a blinking red light, suggesting more data is needed before we move forward.
Sometimes fear is a blinking red light, that no one remembered to reset.
Fear is shaky, quivery, sweaty palmed and throat gripping. Our voice boxes harden, our knees turn to jelly, and life gets very cold.
Fear is also soft and silent and invisible. Everything looks just the same; yesterday and tomorrow. We are immobile within the power to resist whatever is beckoning us forward. We are forever the deer at the edge of the forest, unwilling to explore the meadow.
Fear is not a dowsing tool. We may want it to cast the deciding vote, to highlight all the proper steps along our life path. To be the yes and no of movement and direction. If only that would work.
Fear is a memory tool, and so has no voice from the future. As a voice from the past it is flawless. My dear brother in law is very allergic to bee stings. He lives in the country, has been badly stung and rushed to Emergency twice, and knows that the next sting could kill him. He swells up to such dimensions that his throat could be closed off. He would suffocate. Dramatic? Yes. How has fear helped him? Did he move into the center of a large polluted city (there’s a handy one nearby), where killer bees would never find him? Did he decide that he is cursed, doomed, a walking disaster at the mercy of a kamikaze bee with a grudge against humanity? Nope. He decided to project a deep calmness around bees. He learned to have an antidote available. He helped others learn to be calm around bees, forfeiting their usual behavior of erratic arm waving and panicked shouts. He still lives on a small farm. Plants hay with his wife in the spring; sweet hay that is laced with purple clover. Their home is ringed with jaunty flowers, both wild and planted. He talks to the mourning doves, with a full throated cooing call. They answer.
We ask others for input into our lives in the hopes that they can see through the veil of illusion that our fears cast. We hope their neutrality gives fear no juice to feed on; and we pray they don’t share our neurosis. Lest we simply become three blind mice! See how they run.
Why not cultivate a new relationship to fear, and welcome it as our old friend. We could give thanks for those times we got the message, the data alert, the warning curve of possibility. Then we want to learn to project calmness so that we can be in the moment. Is there a bee sitting on our nose? What is right action in the moment? In the next moment, is the bee gone?
Life is a rhapsody, flavored with the sweet nectar of possibilities. Do we focus on the possible sting, or dine on honey and mead?
