The Origin of Fear

I’ve been pondering the origin of fear. Is it taught or involuntary? I’m not talking about the fear that keeps us from hurting ourselves, but that which keeps us from realizing our fullest potential as individuals, communities and a species. I can remember as a child being fearless…to the point of indeed injuring myself, like the time I was mesmerized by a grinding tool on display at Montgomery Ward, the scars from which I still bear.

Is fear inherited? Do I really carry the fear of my father’s, father’s father’s mother in my DNA, four generations later?

Fear is a catalyst for inventions (from club, to spear, to slingshot, to gun, to bomb), a catalyst for a winning presidential campaign, a catalyst for a “reality based” television show that’s now in syndication, a catalyst to pull people together and a wedge to keep them apart. Seems like a pretty powerful emotion (?) to me. Fear is a business. Create fear in the consumer and watch them clamor for your product.

How much space does fear take up in my psyche, in our collective psyches? I’m going to sit back, watch, listen and see exactly how fear is manifesting itself in my life.

A Squirrel's Eye View

One of the blessings of my new home is a long balcony with east and west unobstructed views. From this vantage point, and often undetected by the world below, I witness breathtaking, humorous, touching and surprising events. To say my neighborhood is colorful is an understatment. Not just the exterior paint on the Victorian houses, but the technicolor lives being lived inside and out.

Take Friday night for example...."Good Friday". At the end of the day and long walk, Mocha and I took up residence on the balcony. She laying as flat as she could with her nose positioned strategically under the railing, me on a comfortable bench in the corner. The first thing my eye was drawn to was a campfire...yes, a campfire my neighbors had built on their side yard and there must have been 10 people in plastic chairs in a circle around this campfire. We are literally in the shadows of Downtown Houston, skyscrapers twinkling over our shoulders and this clan of immigrants are gathered in fellowship, sitting around a campfire, laughing boisterously, speaking in their native language, drinking beer.

All evening long, people migrated to this house. Looking east, I would see in the distance a lone figure walking down the middle of the street. One, Two, Three, Four or more times this happened throughout the evening and these sojourners were met in the same way. Voices would raise in welcome and the circle around the campfire widened. Each brought with them an offering...a six pack of beer, a bag of marshmallows, a package of weiners. As the size of the circle grew, so did the banquet. Separate, these offerings couldn't satisfy their hunger, but together, they feasted. Little did they know they fed me too.

Patient Persistance Always Prevails

Someone told me once that I was the most impatient, patient person they had ever met. I looked up the definition of patience. It is of Greek origin and literally means "to suffer". So why is patience viewed as such a good thing?

"Patience can be a great virtue, while learning to push ahead often proves invaluable to those who prevail; but only a marriage of these two spirits can grant us true success, because in their union we are empowered with a calm and steady watchfulness that is always ready and willing to act."

Living By Moonlight

Basking in the rays of a bright snow moon,
you beckon me into your dream.
We gaze upon each other,
our hair, skin, eyes
dancing with sterling radiance.

We skim across the moon’s surface
barely touching down,
leaving swirling stars in our wake.

Dizzy, breathless and laughing,
we collapse exhausted in the Moon’s soft embrace
cradling us…steadying our senses.

We rise and step onto a single moonbeam,
descending to Earth, to dreams yet revealed.
Until then, we live by moonlight…
as a promise of dreams to come.

The Dark Side

Someone asked me yesterday if I had a dark side. My response was yes, but that was met with challenge after challenge, and the question, "why don't you ever show it?" Made me stop and ponder if my pursuit of enlightenment and wholeness hasn't created an inbalance within and how does one respond to such a challenge?

Circle Dance to the Blues

For most of the night, I stood behind her left shoulder soaking in the club scene. Every opening of the front door ushered in fodder for characters in a short story yet to be written. A Blues Club with ties to the Crescent City has a lot to live up to...I wasn't disappointed. With the sound turned down, the room was filled with a jigsaw puzzle of people of varying skin color, socio-economic background, education, leather/no leather, some too young to care they were blocking our view, others so old and soaked in bourbon and cigarettes they created a wake as they navigated from one side of the bar to the other. With the volume turned up, we were one....devotees of The Blues...focused on an aged, weather-worn black man in a light chocolate brown felt fedora that matched his leisure suit perfectly. The way he commanded his guitar and the microphone left no doubt he had earned the right in his lifetime to sing The Blues.

Funny thing about The Blues...when it's genuine, there is great joy in singing, hearing, dancing and experiencing it. At one point, a group of young college-aged women commanded the dance floor. Rocking and swaying to the rhythm of The Blues gave way to the instinctual dance residing in the souls of women no dogma or man can blot out. An older woman they beckoned onto the dance floor completed the circle of five. Joining hands, they began dancing an involuntary movement generations of women have danced in living rooms, on forest floors and around fires. The percussive ending to the song was punctuated by the raising of joined hands high over their heads and laughter...big, free laughter they just couldn't keep inside.

Gazing over her left shoulder at this ancient ritual acted out by maiden, mother & crone, I smiled and then I laughed.

Growing Pains

Is it flight or evolution...fear or confusion?
What is feeding the stretching entity within?

A siren wanting more and more blares out and
grows weary of now.

Talking in circles, invisible catalyst marches
with a name unique to my vessel (nameless to those looking in)
Each step cries, "Ouch, that's tender!"

Sole of my foot,
an invisible wound
lifted to receive a balm from healing hands
but no salve is applied.

Will a domed callus form?
Questions, desires, dreams, tender shoots of discovery
trapped under horned layers of skin cry out for the razor.

Let breath
Let steps
Let tender stone bruises heal

Cast growing pains to the elements,
to the sleeping cave where they await fresh and new skin.

Motion

Rising in the early hours of the morning
Prayers of gratitude for a deep breath

Woman and dog retrace yesterday's steps
yesterday's steps and an entire year of steps
Prayers of gratitude for good walking shoes and a strong leash

Finding a place for possessions gathered over a lifetime
newspaper and bubble wrap falling to the floor
swirling and crackling under my feet like autumn leaves
Prayers of gratitude for the story each holds

Woman chooses home over work; the trinity over tasks
a welcomed phone call from a caring friend
and the deliverance of just what was needed to heal a weary head
Prayers of gratitude for the grace to say 'yes'

Finding sustenance in companionship, conversation,
food with names foreign to Southern tongues,
poetry + music=songwriting
Alchemy behind a dark curtain in a small hall with
hard tables and harder chairs
Prayers of gratitude for the rising...the grace...
the breathing in and breathing out.

Mother Nature Re-Seeds

Yesterday morning I witnessed a spectacular display. Most mornings are spent on my balcony with an unrestricted East and West view. As the sun rose, so did the ferocity of the wind. As the wind rose, the trees let loose their seeds and a swirling, sometimes boiling dance acted out before my eyes. It seems no matter how much concrete we lay down or structures we erect, Mother Nature attempts every spring to restore order and reclaim what humankind has encroached upon.

As I watched in wonder, I felt like an intruder...peeking from behind a pillar in an ancient temple at a ritual I am but beginning to comprehend.

Drama at the Theatre

It's late....I'm still at work...I need to be home packing for my move tomorrow but today has been filled with drama...drama at the theatre. This morning, one of my co-workers had a brain aneurysm sitting at her desk in the box office. She's in ICU and we are praying that the most brilliant doctors and nurses are caring for her. She is a gem, a sparkling, shining gem of a woman who emotes genuine love and compassion for everyone.

We didn't know what to do after the ambulance sped away, so we gathered in the lobby of the theatre, formed a circle and said prayers aloud. When we called her daughter, she wouldn't leave work to be at her mother's side. What have we become as a society when our workforce doesn't feel at liberty to respond to an urgent call? People really piss me off sometimes.

The Mosaic

Bending but not breaking
Breaking but not shattering
Shattering but not clattering as I hit the ground

Gathering but not mending
Mending but not tending
Tending but not nurturing fragments found

Weathered hands swirl the pan
In sunlight
hungry eyes search murky soup
for glints of gold

Reflecting but not shining
Shining but not glowing
Glowing but not radiating
from within

Stepping but not dancing
Dancing but not laughing
Laughing but not crying
where do I begin?