I was looking through an old writing tool this morning. One that I’ve used for years to jot down thoughts, ideas, and chapters for books I intend to publish at some point. And I found this snippet I wrote 7 years ago…so, sometime in 2009. My father had just passed away the year before after a lengthy (14 year) struggle with ill-health.
I thought it was interesting enough to share as a blog post. Because I wonder if these thoughts and feelings might resonate with others…
So here’s the thing…
I’m scared all the time. And I don’t know why. I don’t even know what I’m afraid of. Making wrong choices. Saying the wrong thing. Hurting someone. Losing my mind. Losing use of body parts or functions. Losing loved ones.
Living a life without meaning. Simply existing. And then not existing anymore at all.
Un-becoming. Un-learning. Forgetting.
I’m afraid of the unknown. And I’m afraid of the known.
I’m afraid of ignorance. And I’m afraid of knowledge. Was I happier…better off…before I knew that brilliant minds could become dim with time? That bodies break? That people give up on their dreams? Get worn down and worn out?
I’m afraid of being lied to and deceived. But I’m also afraid of the truth. Because the truth is that people lie and deceive.
I’m afraid of pain. And violence. Mental, emotional, and physical.
I’m frightened of religion and belief systems. Because they cause more division than unification. More judgment than mercy.
Was life better when I believed in Santa Clause and magic and Jesus?
I’m afraid of being alone. And I’m afraid of being lost in a crowd.
I’m afraid of being not enough. And of being too much.
I’m frightened of being soft because it makes me vulnerable. But also of being hard because that makes me stern and impenetrable.
I’m afraid of poverty and I’m afraid of the demands that come with success.
I’m afraid of disappointing others. Not meeting their expectations. And I’m afraid of being perceived as someone with all the answers because people become needy and demanding.
I’m afraid of anger because it can lead to all kinds of abuse. But I’m afraid of being meek and peaceful because it makes me easy to attack and take advantage of.
I’m afraid of starvation and I’m afraid of gluttony. Because in either instance my own body can turn against me. And so can society. And it generally will.
I’m afraid of judgment and condemnation. I’m afraid of self-righteous people who proclaim themselves wiser or smarter or chosen or more enlightened. And make those proclamations based upon presumption and deception. Then justify their own abusive behaviors on those beliefs.
But here’s the thing about fear…
It doesn’t get you anywhere.
It makes your body speed up, accelerate, expect some kind of pay-off or culmination or orgasm.
But it never comes.
It only makes you feel like your brain is going to explode. Or your heart will pound so hard and so fast that it will break from over-use.
It just makes you tired. And cynical.
I know there was a need for fear in the beginning. I think it had something to do with running away from animals who wanted to eat us.
Instead of Original Sin, I want to know who created Original Fear?
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