There are things. Scary things. Things we know we should do. Things we know we could do. Then we talk ourselves out of it. We get scared. We let fear lead. And all the things remain undone.
I am tired of missing things. I am facing the fear. Inviting it to take a seat in the back. Doing the thing.
I want to write a book, so I am writing a book. Fear whispers doubts. No one will read it. If someone does read it, they won’t like it. They won’t like you. These ideas have all been done before.
On and on it goes.
Fear likes to be handled gently, so in these moments when fear is begging for attention, I turn and say, thank you, I see you. And I am going to do the thing anyway.
Fear pouts. I let it.
When I moved fear to the backseat, I created space for new ideas. New energies. I started looking around at the world with eyes of curiosity. I wondered how things looked without the lens of fear. I opened myself. A bit at a time. True to its nature, fear would chime in when it noticed I was getting a little further away. I would remind fear where it belonged. I remind fear of all of the time spent deciding for us. I remind fear of my gratitude for doing its job and keeping us safe from all the things.
Then, I reminded fear about skateboards.
I have always wanted to learn how to ride. I have always been scared. I took the flight option in fight or flight response every time and stayed away from something that appears to be enormously fun and exciting. I ran from the experience. I thought I was afraid. Me. The self, Me. I wasn’t afraid. I was letting fear drive. This thing I wanted to do set to the side for a lifetime because the force was strong with my fear and I allowed it to win. Every single time.
Until yesterday. Yesterday, I bought a longboard. I am learning how to ride. Because I want to. Because I have always wanted to.
Fear whispers. I remind.
Fear pouts. I let in.
Do the things!
Write the book!
Buy the skateboard!
Get on it!