A Series of Four Letter Words - Fear

Fear.

One simple four letter word with such a deep dark chasm of void and power behind it.

Fear is an interesting little pickle of a puzzle because it is almost a non-thing.

For me fear is the omission of an action, a not doing, a waiting. Fear is a dying.

It is a struggle that binds my actions and clouds my vision.

It stills my motion, stills my passion, stills my life... but...

Courage.

Is the action in the fear. The action through the fear.

One keystroke a declared defiance to the fear of the suck, fear of unknown, fear of fear.

To throw off those damn shackles and shake the fuzz from the mind. To awaken and look beyond.

Courage to go on. Courage to stand up. Courage to move forward.

One
step
at
a
Time.

The fear freezes and can hold its sway through the mechanism of inactivity and lies for as long as we cease to remember that a single action, a single act of will, a single motion, will defeat it and send it fleeing.

But that motion can seem so much
when we are afraid.

A lie that the act must be big and momentous is framed in the thought that bind.
A keystroke, a brushstroke, a footstep out the door,
are miniscule actions and monumental choices.

For it is that choice that creates. It is that choice which impels.
It is that choice which is the choice to live.

I have known courage.
So I have known fear.

Everyday we encounter fear.
Everyday we encounter courage.

We just frame it so poorly and negatively biased in our minds.

Aw heck. We're all human. And as we know our own struggles and stumbles and fears so to we know those of others. We're really not all that different.

One act is courage in the face of fear. One step is the choice to move forward.
One keystroke pushes aside the fears and self-doubts and gives birth to an article.

A triumph of will.
To step once again into the flow and to allow creation to occur.
To live rather than to die.



and now, a story.

Spring of 2005. I stand on the edge of Bloukrans Bridge in South Africa.
216 meters below me runs the Bloukrans River.

I'm looking down.
My heart is thumping in my ears.
My palms are sweaty.
I am afraid.

There is a bungy cord connected to my ankles and the operators have years of experience.

I'm looking down.
My heart is thumping in my ears.
My palms are sweaty.
I am afraid.

A lie that the act must be big and momentous is framed in the thought that bind.
A keystroke, a brushstroke, a footstep out the door,
are miniscule actions and monumental choices.

One step lead to a bungy jump.
One keystroke led to this article.

One action to banish fear and death, to step once more into life.