28. November 2009 by Marie Pinschmidt.

I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving. In spite of all the world unrest, we need to be thankful for life and all of the blessings bestowed on us every day. So, best wishes to everyone during the upcoming Holiday Season, whatever your belief or leanings. Stay safe, stay healthy, and do your best to stay happy!

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7. November 2009 by Marie Pinschmidt.

 DEALING WITH FEAR  Today, as I watched the news of the horrific murderous attack at Fort Hood, Texas, I thought of the many fears we face in our everyday lives. I exchange e-mails with another writer in Iraq and she talks of her constant fear for the life of her children. Car bombings in the streets and market places are an ongoing concern. Schools are unsafe and teachers are tortured in front of the students. After the news today, I can better relate to her way of life, and the lives of others in third-world countries. Horrible things happen in our country as well, but usually, and thankfully, our fears are not of such magnitude.     

 Poet, philosopher and artist, Kalil Gibran was asked the question, “For what is it to die?” His response was, “It is life in quest of life in bodies that fear the grave. There are no graves here. These mountains and plains are a cradle and a stepping stone.” Our lives are filled with fear of varying degrees, and we seldom recognize it as a cause for our mental and physical discontent. Other than fear of death, there are other fears that often paralyze us. Below are a list, Gibran’s comments, plus my own probable responses:    

  FEAR OF PAIN AND ILLNESS: “Much of your pain is self-chosen. It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility.”  My fear is almost always worse than the illness or pain sent my way.      FEAR OF LOSING POSSESSIONS: We guard possessions for fear we may need them later, much like an overly prudent dog burying bones in trackless sand. Gibran says, “Give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors.” I hang onto things for sentimental reasons, or possibly as proof that I was an active participant in some way.     

 FEAR OF “PROPER” DEMEANOR AND APPEARANCE: From THE PROFIT, by Gibran: “The earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.”   Again from THE PROFIT: “Alone and without his nest shall an eagle fly across the sun. Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.”  It sounds delightful but, alas, I fear I’ll never be eager to leave my nest and, unlike the eagle, fear of height would never allow me to soar in any literal sense.     

 A psychologist might tell us to imagine putting our fears in a container and set them assail on the ocean surf, or turn our fears over to the universe. Then, we could walk the sandy shore while fresh ocean breezes blow out to sea any remnant of self-doubt or insecurity. We could feel free to marvel at the call of the seagull or the busy sandpiper at our feet. However, if I followed that suggestion, I’m afraid my fear would wash back on the shore like a dead body, or some ghost from the past.      Or we might be advised to set our fears loose in a mountain stream. Then we could skip across to the other side; sit on the bank with a calm heart, attuned to the music of birds and the sound of dancing water over pebbles polished smooth by time. But alas, I fear I would rush down-stream to retrieve them before they could escape my possessive clutches. Perhaps we could place our fears in a bonfire; letting them burn until nothing is left but ashes, sacrificing them to the Gods. We could sit peacefully by the fire and at autumn’s first chill feel the warmth on our face. Or we could imagine sharing with someone we love the soft, sticky, sweet taste of roasted marshmallows, listen to the sound of crackling dried branches while being lulled into a sweet reverie. Chances are that I would find myself maniacally stirring the ashes with a stick, looking for any charred remnants of salvageable fear, like a CSI searching for crucial evidence.      

 We could put our fears in a boat and drown them in a lake; sit nearby and feel an early mist rise over the water and watch the vapor merge with a yellow and peach sunrise. Or we could listen to the voice of a solitary sand-hill crane as he welcomes a new day. Instead, like a child with a toy boat, I fear I would attach a string to make sure my insecurity didn’t float out too far to be retrievable. Would that I could release the tether so my vessel of fear could fall to the bottom-wet grave, become caught in quicksand, sucked under, never again to resurface.     

 Our fears, of whatever degree, are a part of us. We cling to them when we should let them fly like a kite until they disappear over a distant horizon. We should bury them forever under rocks or send them back to nature’s wilderness, forever camouflaged in the native flora and fauna. Some fears are necessary to lead us to greater realities, more possibilities. They prevent us from becoming careless with our safety or making irrational decisions, yet never paralyzing our growth or enjoyment of life.  There are no easy solutions and after yet another day of senseless violence, I fear that some fears are here to stay. I like Henry Link’s definition of fear: “Nature’s warning signal to get busy.”        “““““` 

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