Fear

Fear Is the Mindkiller


I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past
I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain

I feel like saying “Amen” to this. Yes, I’m admitting two things in this post: 1. I’m a Dune fan and by that, I mean I’ve read the first book in the series and have to be one of the few people on the planet who enjoys the movie despite its flaws.
2. I am afraid.

Not of admitting that I like the Dune movie, though that may bring down derision on my head. No, I’m afraid of many things, actually.

I’m afraid that my writing will never take off the way I want it to.

I’m afraid that, if that is so, I will never be able to work full-time as a writer, which I want so badly it hurts. I’m afraid of the consequences of jumping into such a situation: losing my home, losing my change-adverse daughter’s school, etc. I’m afraid of losing the respect of my friends and family for causing these chain reactions.

Yet I heard the most magnificent message from God yesterday. (Yes, I am a practicing Christian despite the Buddha image on the screen. That’s simply there to provide setting for the Asian theme, though I am NOT a militant Christian and have no problems with other beliefs.) God asked me why I’m so fearful. Don’t I believe in him? Yes, I do. But I also know He put His followers through trials and such trials are not something I desire.

Yes, I know, beyond all question, that God will take care of me and my family in the coming days. He promises such care if we face our afflictions “even unto death.” It’s the “even unto” part that worries me. The part where I lose my family’s and friends’ respect because of my actions.

So what about you? What are you afraid of?

What Do You Fear?

My reading has sparked interesting self-introspection, but I’ve decided I need to face my fears.

When I was an eight-year-old child, I came home and found my dog had hung himself. (He was a fence climber, so we had tied him inside the enclosure.) I tried to get him down, but he was already stiff. I must have been in a formative development stage because this has haunted me and shaped me in uncomfortable ways. But I’ve come to the conclusion this morning that I WANTED it to.

This makes me squirm. Why do I cling to this agonizing fear of loss? So much so, that I made it my hero’s main flaw. This is not who I am! What’s worse, it has taken me over so much that there are days I find it hard to operate because of the what ifs. Part of me shrugs and says “What ifs are a part writing, therefore, your fear has made you a writer. Don’t knock it.” I choose not to believe that. God made me a writer.

I must find a way out my self-made fear of losing loved ones before I am undone, but I know I am not alone in using my fears as a crutch or as a resource.

Today’s homespun therapy question is: What do you fear and how do you use it?