Three interesting things all happened last week:
- I received a signed copy of the book The Fear Cure by Lissa Rankin.
- On the phone, my mother told me that she appreciated my fearless, ferocious, and heart-centric approach towards experiencing and expressing how I want to show up, who I want to be, and what I want to share with the world around me.
- A tender moment in conversation was shared between my boyfriend and me where he asked me what my fears were.
And here’s the truth. I’m not a very fear-filled person. I’m normally not one to assess risk or go down the rabbit hole with “what-ifs”, “could-haves”, or “uh-ohs”. Instead, the inner workings of my being sound, and feel, and look something like this:
Fearlessness is being willing to take risks and break rules, rules that I have created for myself, rules that others have created for me.
Fearlessness is speaking my truth and using my voice, even though I sometimes over share and un-filter my thoughts, I always learn from whatever edges I am pushing.
Fearlessness is quitting jobs that make me feel confined, small, and not creative, and instead, seeking work that fills me, inspires me, and feeds my soul, even if I am uncertain of how it will pay my bills.
Fearlessness is being okay with saying no, being the first to leave,and opting to “miss out” from a place of self-care and self-knowing.
Fearlessness is creating lists, manifesting goals, and exploring wild dreams, then whole-heartedly surrendering and letting-go of my attachment to the outcome.
Fearlessness is having hard conversations and asking big questions, even if that means I will experience heartache, disappointment, or loss.
Fearlessness is having dated a lot of different people, recognizing that no one person will ever be the “perfect” match, but finding a few that touch my soul so profoundly that I will never look at life or love the same.
Fearlessness is having the good fortune of knowing that someone always has my back, that I am never alone, and that in moments of loneliness,I need to make better friends with myself.
Fearlessness is knowing that no words or actions from the outside world can ever break me, as I have said and done far crueler things to myself than anyone else would ever be capable of.
Fearlessness is being vulnerable, expressing my feelings, and showing my most authentic self, even when it makes me the weirdest, wildest, or most sensitive person in the room.
Fearlessness is embracing physical touch and sexual exchanges, because I have been one of the few fortunate enough to not have experienced a scary or unsafe physical experience.
Fearlessness is trusting my body and my innate inner knowing, as my intuition had never, ever led me astray.
Fearlessness is being comfortable being alone, and willing to explore all of the murky, scary, and fucked-up sides of myself.
Fearlessness is being sometimes overly trusting and slightly naive, as I have been blessed to have never been robbed or assaulted or burned (that badly).
Fearlessness is experiencing the isolation, sadness, and overwhelm, that often comes with persistent illness, only to realize that I have the power to heal myself.
Fearlessness is trusting in something bigger than myself, seeing the world, exploring nature, and knowing that I am a very small piece of a much larger picture.
Fearlessness is becoming friends with my inner child, and learning to recognize when my small, ego-driven self is out of alignment with the truth of who I am.
Fearlessness is loving deeply and fully with my whole heart, even with knowing that I may be hurt or left or forgotten.
Fearlessness is embracing the impermanence of everything, that no matter how painful or joyful, sorrow-filled or celebratory, I always have the choice to do my best in being present to what is, as it is.