Doesn't one always become reflective in the waning days of
the year?
I have the added inspiration of my Solstice Fire, during
which I ceremonially burn slips of paper bearing the words for things, emotions
and circumstances which "no longer serve." This year, I had quite the stack of little
squares of paper. As always.
There is one word that I seem to perennially burn in my ceremonial
fires: FEAR.
Fear has been my constant companion since I was old enough
to know it, I think.
I am afraid of everything.
Illness. People. New experiences. Old experiences. The dark. Being alone.
Not being alone. Name it, and I
have some deep-seated fear of it.
When it comes time to reflect upon what I'd like eradicated
from my life, what I need to burn in my Solstice Fire, Fear is always at the
top of the list.
I write it down. I throw
it in the fire. I watch it burn. And it never goes away.
This year, I experienced an epiphany of sorts about fear.
Every morning, in my daily salutation to the Spirit, I turn
to the East, the direction I have chosen for Heron--that aspect of the
Universal Spirit which, among other things, focuses upon balance. And one morning last week, I believe Heron
whispered to me that inhabiting my fear and allowing it to inhabit me is not a
balanced way to walk. If fear walks next
to me every step of the way, it does not require more than a nod of acknowledgment. Even if it jumps up and down, begging to be
recognized, I do not have to embrace it, focus on it, or even look at it. And I certainly don't need to allow it to
possess me or lead me.
In other words, like the apostle Paul's "thorn in the flesh," my fear is not going away. So the only solution is to learn to manage it.
In other words, like the apostle Paul's "thorn in the flesh," my fear is not going away. So the only solution is to learn to manage it.
Let's
see how this new understanding guides me in the coming year.