Gift of Fear

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the way my shifting relationship to fear has played a significant role in shaping my life. To see where I am I had to look back to where I’ve been.

In college, my mind had been exposed and expanded during my studies in Western philosophy and Anthropology. Whole new worlds and theories were shown to me, flipping the switch on a hunger to know the Truth.  

Coupled with this, I was filled with a deep longing to know my place in this world, my purpose in this life.  I thought the answer to my burning hunger was “out there”, in the recorded thoughts and practices laid down by people I’ve never met.  And if I could find, understand, and incorporate that knowledge into my life then I’d know why I am here and what it is all for. 

Then I’d feel at peace; content and satiated in my quest. 

For over a decade, I devoured philosophy and Eastern wisdom traditions, I explored yoga, meditation, Ayurveda, astrology and other esoteric ways.  Seeking the answers to my heart’s deepest questions: why am I here, what is it all for, what is my purpose? 

Ultimately, the seeking backfired, driving me further from any sense of clarity or understanding.  I had placed my trust and authority in those who came before rather than allowing their influence to color my own inner knowing.  I mistook the road signs for the destination, and I was left still longing for my answer.

All the while, my own inner knowing was quietly and patiently waiting for me to turn my gaze inward.

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This shift from outer seeking to inner contemplation unfolded gradually over many years, slowly cracked open through poignant experiences in relationships, motherhood, and deep personal struggle.

The watershed moment was when I realized that the feeling I labeled as “fear” was actually the arrow pointing the way.

I began to intentionally look for and listen to the sensations and intuitive knowing of this fear when they arose.  At first they were small instances that encouraged me to push an edge, really reflect on and receive critical feedback, or engage in ways that I felt vulnerable about.

As my trust in the guidance of the fear was strengthened, it began to speak louder and more often.  And it began to ask me to speak, act, or show up in ways that felt increasingly difficult.  Ways that made me feel deeply uncomfortable or asked me to bring more truth and authenticity into my relationships and overall way of being.

Ways that seemed to threaten a significant loss of something that felt safe.

This became a regular practice: noticing the fear rise in my body, acknowledging my discomfort and that a growth edge was being identified, and summoning the courage and willingness to follow the knowing, and in turn be changed by life’s unfolding. Changed in ways beyond my imagining, ways that were surprising, healing, and incredibly beautiful.

This practice also helped me realize my purpose is not something “out there” that I “do”or how I make a living, instead it is a way of listening and a way of being that informs everything I do and experience.

My purpose is not what I am doing, but rather how I am being as I am doing it. 

I now understand the feeling I had labeled as fear is simply the sensation of knowing I will be irrevocably changed if I heed the inner knowing rising in myself. It is the compass and the call.

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As I was writing this piece, I found myself in the uncomfortable space of feeling something needing to change, to release, but I was struggling to parse out what it is that wants to be created, and especially what specific actions, changes or expansion is required in me to make it possible for something new to be able to come through. That is the edge where my creative impulse (the voice of “fear”) and my comfort come head to head.  I was adrift in unease.

As I sat with my unease, I realized what’s longing to be created right now is actually nothing at all. The need is for me to be present in order to unwind old ways of being. 

It is not a time to create, it is a time to release.  What is meant to be let go is the perpetual need to strive, grow and expand.

This may sound poetic, even easy, but what I’m realizing is that the striving has become an unconscious distraction, another way of seeking peace “out there” through achievement, status, or financial gain. The process of writing this piece has revealed subtle ways that what I am doing has snuck in and overshadowed how I am being as I am doing it.

So, I am temporarily tucking away the goals, plans, and long visions to re-center in the day-to-day, moment by moment.

Can I feel that everything we’ve already created is enough? 

Can I simply revel in what has already come to be without trying to make it more? 

Can I slow down and feel that everything I need in this moment I already have and everything I’m meant to be is who I am right now?

That means meeting each voice, each feeling, each experience, and all my cultural conditioning that tells me otherwise. Moment by moment.

I see now that this is the task being asked behind the unease, hesitation and fear. And it tastes like peace.