I’m feeling flighty, aggravated, and not good enough. I want to teach more. I want to write more. I want to eat better, look better, be better. I want the world to appreciate me and think I’m special, unique, and most certainly one of a kind. I want to be remembered long after I die. I want my memory to never die. And I know why. I want to live forever. Because I’m terrified of death. I’m terrified that my existence will be forgotten and that I will have had no lasting impact on the world. I’m terrified I’ll be a nobody, and that there’s no afterlife, no heaven, no eternity other than non-existence.
This has been my number one fear for as long as I can remember. It’s left me grasping at certain careers, such as writing and history, and desiring to unearth some wholly new idea, concept, and lay claim to it, my name to it, much like that of a reckless explorer.
When I was at my most desperate self, into my life walked someone with unshakeable faith. It helped, and It’s still helping, but I haven’t healed.
How do we let go of fear?
Maybe fear isn’t something we grasp; maybe it’s something that kidnaps us and holds us hostage. Maybe fear is something that takes years, perhaps a lifetime, to outsmart and escape.
But I recognize my fear as fear, not reality, and that must be progress.
The Gift of Yoga
Listening to the Orchestra of Now
Body Talk
