Fear is an interesting emotion. In our society, we treat it like a plague – something to cure, attack, avoid. We say, “Screw fear,” or, “Don’t let fear get in the way.” Oftentimes our message about fear is simpler: “Don’t be scared,” as if telling someone to stop being scared could stop them.
In my own relationship with fear, I’ve also treated it like an annoying inconvenience, or an enemy to defeat. For many years I used food to anesthetize myself. Or I escaped into fantasy, books, movies, television. When I realized none of those things would fix my fear, I started using other methods like affirmations, tapping, visualization, etc. Basically, whatever I could do to not feel afraid, I did. And every time I realized fear hadn’t left, I felt discouraged, disappointed, as if I’d failed. As if fear had won and thus I’d lost.
We must enter the cave that we fear. Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash.
The other week, intense fear reared its head in response to the fires north of me. I could see smoke drifting into San Francisco and some days it wafted into Oakland as well, creating a preternatural calm, a sun so hazy and orange I could look at it directly. Fear came up for many reasons, one of them an acute sense of powerlessness. I bought a mask to protect my lungs from the smoke, but I couldn’t control whether the air remained smoky.
In my therapy session, I noticed I wanted my therapist to fix and solve my fear. I wanted him to take it away from me, to make it better. Instead he suggested I sit with it. I’m not sure what happened in the session because days prior I tried the same thing and just couldn’t, but during the session I finally stayed still. I let fear wash over me saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK that you feel afraid. It makes sense. It’s understandable.” For two days, fear erupted from me like a volcano, not due to any thoughts in particular, rather the feeling of fear itself. My heart palpitated, my breathing quickened. I tried all my usual tricks to no avail until I again said, “OK. I’m here with you. I won’t leave you alone with your fear.” And then at group meditation last week I said to my fearful part, “Not only is it OK that you’re here, but also, I love you,” and that brought on the tears.
All every part of me wants is love and presence. I can’t ditch fear and anxiety. As a human being I will inevitably feel scared and anxious again, but since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, I feel fearless. Not because I’m without fear, but rather because I know when fear pops up again, I’ll allow it, I’ll sit with it, and I’ll say I love you. And then the fear will pass like a storm cloud.
My spiritual teacher says if a person takes shelter in the divine, one need not be afraid of anything. He says, “[F]ear requires two entities for its expression – the one who fears and the cause of fear. Where there is only One entity, because there can be no cause, fear cannot exist.”
In the past, I would have taken that to mean I’m not meditating enough because I still have fears. For today at least, I’m recognizing by loving my fearful self, I am taking shelter in the Cosmic Consciousness. I’m recognizing this fear, too, is a part of me, a part of God, and the way to dissolve fear is by showering it with love.
I dream of a world where we treat our fearful selves with love. A world where we recognize we are not at war with fear, but rather fear is like a small child, begging for affection. A world where we embrace our fearful parts, give it as much love as possible, and in that way become fearless.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
When my co-worker died unexpectedly about two months ago, it rocked me. It shook my sense of stability and security, and I’ve been working hard to get back to feeling safe and secure ever since. Unfortunately, all of my usual methods haven’t worked. I still feel insecure and life still doesn’t feel stable.
I spoke with a friend about this and she reminded me life isn’t certain. We pretend it is, but it’s not. We think we know what will happen next, but we don’t. Usually that notion fills me with anxiety because when the outcome is uncertain, I err on the side of negativity. I know, that’s funny considering this blog is called “Another World is Probable” and I spend so much time talking about a bright future, but it’s true. For myself, I assume the worst – rejection, scarcity, death. On a visceral level, gazing into my future I foresee death, destruction, and despair. It makes sense then why I want to keep uncertainty at bay. The way I’ve done so is to plan. I plan for joy, for connection, for the future. That way I know I’ll engage in something pleasant. Or at least, that’s what I told myself. And it mostly worked, except also not really because I’m sure you’ve heard that saying, “When we make plans, God laughs.” Most often my plans went awry, but I made them anyway and I quelled my anxiety for the most part. I could be certain of most things and that was fine by me.
We’re on the biggest thrill ride of them all. Photo by Park Troopers on Unsplash.
When my co-worker died, my notion of certainty shattered. I couldn’t keep pretending life could be certain, no matter how much I planned. His death was not something I anticipated. Nobody gave me advanced warning. He was here one day and gone the next, and that hurts.
In this moment I’m grieving him, and I’m grieving the loss of certainty. What my friend reminded me though is that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Good things are uncertain too. A new relationship, a new job, a new life are also things we cannot predict. We pretend we can by applying for new jobs, scouring dating websites, and having unprotected sex, but we don’t control what the company is, who we’ll fall in love with, or when we’ll get pregnant. We make an effort, we do the footwork, but when any of those things manifest is ultimately a surprise.
In December, friend and Soul Couch Jayantii Lawless told me she wished I felt thrilled. Not about anything in particular, not like she wished I felt thrilled about dinner that night, rather that I had the experience of “thrill” in general. I laughed and said, “Yeah, me too.” I envisioned “thrill” in the form of falling in love, but instead, the universe is illustrating life itself is thrilling. We are on a roller coaster replete with peaks and valleys. The roller coaster will go up and it will come down. The future is just as likely to be awesome as it is awful. It’s important for me to remember that because anticipating the future will be terrible isn’t working for me. I’d rather anticipate the future will be terrific because that’s just as likely.
I dream of a world where we recognize uncertainty can be exciting. A world where we remember it’s just as likely pleasant things will happen to us as unpleasant ones. A world where we realize life is the biggest thrill ride of them all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve been thinking about timing a lot lately. I feel a ton of internal pressure to get out in the world and do something! To become an inspirational speaker, to relaunch my business, etc. I’m surrounded by these messages all the time: “carpe diem,” “you’ll never feel fully ready to do something,” “you won’t be great when you first start, but you must start in order to be great,” etc. Everyone everywhere seems to be saying to me, “Get in the game, and get in the game now.”
On the other hand, I have resistance. Not due to fear, but a nagging sensation now is not the right time. I still have to take a nap every day. I tire out easily. I have lots of responsibilities and things on my plate at the moment. Do those sound like excuses? Maybe they are, but again, I keep thinking about timing.
Is it super cliche that I’m posting a pic of a surfer when talking about being in rhythm with the universe?
We’re coming upon the eight-year anniversary of my move to San Francisco, on Valentine’s Day in fact. I think about how I moved out here and then it took me seven months to find a job and a place to live. That may not seem like a lot right now considering the state of our economy, but not having stable income or a place to live for that long was challenging, to say the least.
I bring this up because so often I find myself jumping into something and then getting overwhelmed and backpedaling only to pick it up later. This has happened to me over and over again. I have a theory about why this is the case for me. My spiritual teacher says, “Each and every created entity – whether crude, subtle, or causal – is vibrational and rhythmic. … The collective rhythms of all the rhythms emanating every moment from the countless objects of the cosmic imagination is called ‘universal rhythm.’”
My theory is that due to my highly intuitive nature, I’m peering ahead and picking up on the vibration and rhythm of something in the future, but not the present. And the reason things don’t work out when I want them to is because the rhythms and vibrations haven’t matched up yet. Here’s a great example. One of the first jobs I applied for in San Francisco was at a medical magazine. I felt sure I was going to get the job. On a deep level, I knew I was going to work for that company, so when they turned me down, I was shocked, surprised, and confused. Here’s the funny thing though: seven months later I applied for a different job at a different magazine within the same company and got it.
What I’m saying here is that old adage “timing is everything,” is an adage for a reason. As much as I want to get out in the world and do stuff, it’s also important for me to acknowledge some things are out of my hands. That if I try too soon it’s like entering a bouncy house at the exact wrong moment: I’ll get bounced out. As much as I hate having to say this, and believe me, I do, what I’m coming to realize is patience is required of me sometimes. Sure, I can jump in, but my personal experience is I feel traumatized and it takes me a while to lick my wounds before I want to try again. Wouldn’t it be better for me to wait and pick my moment? To start bouncing in the house smoothly and seamlessly? To align my rhythm with the universe’s?
I dream of a world where we understand there is a natural rhythm and timing to everything in nature, including us. A world where we understand we have to be in sync with the vibration and rhythm of what we want before the entry is smooth. A world where we remember it’s still true: timing is everything.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I have a slight phobia of wheels. Roller skates, bicycles, cars, scooters – all of them scare me; not as a passenger, but when I’m in charge, heck yeah. My heart starts to pound and my rational brain leaves the building. It’s hard for me to concentrate, to remember all the little things that come so naturally to many. It would be great if a phobia was like other fears in that it abates the more often you engage with whatever it is you’re afraid of, but it’s not.
I like Wikipedia’s explanation of phobias the best:
“[A phobia is] a persistent fear of an object or situation in which the sufferer commits to great lengths in avoiding, typically disproportional to the actual danger posed, often being recognized as irrational. In the event the phobia cannot be avoided entirely, the sufferer will endure the situation or object with marked distress.”
This means that it doesn’t matter how often I drive a car (and I have — I’ve owned two cars, driven across the country, driven long distances by myself, driven in cities, etc.), the fear never goes away. It may lessen, but it’s ever present. I bring all this up because last week I bought this bad boy:
My new scooter! Ain’t it pretty?
For those of you who can’t tell, that’s a Piaggio Fly 150 scooter. Last week I moved to a quiet, safe neighborhood just over the Oakland hills that necessitates I have wheels of some kind. Because I can’t afford a car, voila, a scooter. I like riding my scooter; it’s fun, but it’s also scary because of my phobia to operating wheels. I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself to ride further and faster than I’m comfortable with because I kind of have to. The closest bus stop is a mile and a half away, and the closest BART station (the train system for those of you who don’t know) is six miles away.
In our culture of “just do it,” I feel like I should be able to “get over” my fear and drive the thing in heavy traffic and be completely fine. That I should be able to drive to the BART station no problem. But it is. I can’t force myself to be ready when I’m not. Yes, there is such a thing as paralysis, of complete avoidance, but there’s also such a thing as pushing myself too fast too far. I’m taking my scooter out every day to feel more comfortable handling it, to build up my confidence, but there’s no need to rush.
I bring this up because perhaps you feel like you “should” be somewhere you’re not. That you “should” quit your job already, or move, or be ready for another relationship, or whatever. I’m here to tell you (and me) it’s OK if you’re not. You don’t have to be ready faster than you are. It’s fine to go at your own pace and do things when you’re really ready. Yesterday I rode my scooter all the way to the grocery store because I was ready. I was afraid, but I was also ready to push myself to that limit. Instead of embracing the philosophy, “Ready or not, here I come!” I’m embracing the philosophy of gentleness, of going slowly at my own pace, because I’m not ready yet to go certain distances, but I know I will be.
I dream of a world where we don’t force ourselves to be ready when we’re not. A world where we allow ourselves to go at a pace we can handle. A world where we are gentle with ourselves, taking our time, easing off the pressure because we understand when it comes to “ready or not,” sometimes the answer is, “Not.”
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I am a firm believer that every repeat experience, every emotional overreaction, comes up so it can be healed and released. Having said that, I am also a slow learner and usually want to change my outside circumstances instead of determining what the internal, personal lesson is. However, the universe is tricky and makes sure I confront my stuff.
Yesterday, I went to water my neighbor’s garden and I noticed her back door was ajar, which it hadn’t been the day before. I immediately assumed the worst. “She must have been broken into! She’s been robbed and ransacked!” I don’t think she was robbed, it doesn’t really make sense that she was considering we’re in a gated community, nobody else reported a burglary, she’s at the back of the property, and somebody would have to know to walk to the back of the house to find a door. Anyway, I don’t know for sure, that answer will be revealed when I speak with her.
I’d like to think that explosions can also be good things, like supernovae creating something new.
The point is I freaked out. As in, inconsolable, shaken, incapable of much rational thought, unable to sleep or calm down. When I dug a little deeper I realized it’s not because I was worried about being broken into myself, but rather because I was having flashbacks. Almost two years ago, some friends of mine were broken into while I was housesitting for them. I was, and am, traumatized by the experience. Walking into a space with the back door ajar, ransacked, books thrown on the floor, drawers pulled out from the dresser, all the lights on, has been burned into my brain. So when I saw my neighbor’s door ajar, I wasn’t seeing her situation, I was reliving one from my past. That, my friends, is called a trigger.
I hadn’t realized I’d carried so much fear with me about the experience two years ago until yesterday. I thought I was over the whole thing but now I understand I’d only buried it. Instead of lamenting the possible break in, I see what’s really happening on my end is that I need to release this junk. I need to let the trauma out of my body and I’m thankful I have the tools like EMDR to do so. That’s the nature of triggers, they precede an explosion, and instead of running away from triggers, it’s far better for me to deal with them as they come up so I am no longer triggered with quite the same severity.
A million years ago a good friend of mine told me every moment of life is a love poem from my creator. I have to believe that also includes the “bad” stuff, the triggers, the hard moments, the things I’d rather push under the rug. My creator loves me so much that circumstances are created such that these things are not allowed to stay hidden. I am so loved my creator instead says, “Hey, Rebekah, you need to look at this.” And so I am.
I dream of a world where we confront our triggers as they come up. A world where we understand every moment is a love poem from our creator. A world where we shine a light on all our dark spots and seek the help we need, in whatever form that may take.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I know I wrote a blog a few years ago with this same title, but I couldn’t resist using it again because today is May 4th and the next Star Wars cast recently came out. I mean, this title was practically begging to be used.
So, ahem, I’m looking for a new place to live (again!). Since I got back from Vienna in March, it’s been one thing after another with my cottage. Nothing major, little things like my internet not working, my toilet not flushing, my water getting turned off due to a sewer complication, etc. But it’s been enough to remind me, “I don’t like living here.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I moved in, this cottage has been great for what it was, for what I needed at the time, but now I’m ready for something different. Something better. Something more in line with my heart’s desires.
I almost posted a Star Wars pic but I thought that would be overkill. . .
Coupled with my desire to leave is a wee bit of desperation and impatience (for good measure). Whenever I come across something on Craigslist that even remotely suits my needs (i.e. quiet, safe neighborhood, in my price range), I jump on it. If I can’t attend the open house, panic consumes me because, “What if this is my place to live and I’m missing out and nothing like it will show up again and then I’ll be stuck here forever and ever?” I liken it to Black Friday syndrome. You know that phenomenon when people wait outside a department store at 4 a.m. and as soon as the store opens they start grabbing stuff willy-nilly, even if the item is not exactly what they want, but it’s close, and they don’t want someone else to buy the item instead?
I feel that way about housing. The apartment may not be exactly what I’m looking for, but competition is fierce, and I want to move, and what if I don’t find anything better, so gosh darn it, I’ll take it! I have to keep reminding myself desperation and impatience have gotten me into some pickles in the past, so, no, I cannot force myself into saying yes because I’m afraid nothing better will come along.
I realize I’m picky about housing, and believe me, I wish I wasn’t, but a part of accepting myself as I am is realizing if I don’t live somewhere I love, nothing works properly in my life. My health suffers, my work suffers, my friendships suffer. Housing is the hub from which everything else emanates for me so I must not force myself to say yes to anything less than what my heart desires. I must wait until what I’m looking for comes along; reminding myself the world is abundant, despite what my mind tells me.
Obviously this applies not only to housing, but to everything. A million years ago I wrote my sister a birthday card and told her, “Never settle for anything because that’s exactly what you’ll get.” Compromises and adjustments need to be made, absolutely, but compromising is not the same thing as settling in my book.
I dream of a world where we don’t settle for anything less than what our hearts and souls desire. A world where we keep the faith, and have patience that we want will come along. A world where we don’t force ourselves to say “yes” out of fear and desperation, but because we really mean it.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m recycling a blog post from 2009 so, no, a friend of mine didn’t die on Tuesday, but I think this post has merit and I wanted to reshare it with y’all.
This week I learned a lot about myself, where I am, and where I’d like to go. Someone I went to high school with died on Tuesday and it hit me like a Mack truck. We weren’t close, but it brought up all this stuff for me. As soon as I heard the news I wanted to pick up the phone and call somebody, I wanted someone to comfort me.
As I walked home from work, tears leaking out from the corners of my eyes, my Papa did his best to pacify me. He said all the right things, made all the right soothing noises, but it wasn’t enough. So then I called my mom. And she did all the same things. And it still wasn’t enough. And then I called some more people and it still wasn’t enough. After all this I realized, yet again, the comfort I crave has to come from me. The unconditional love, affection, and support has to come from within because coming from the outside it will never be enough. Because the outside love and comfort runs out. Because it’s unsustainable.
Love me tender, love me sweet. . .
It’s like a car: A car needs to run on gasoline but it can only go so far before it needs a refill. It’s the same way with getting love from the outside – it will help for a little while, but eventually we’ll need more. Eventually we’ll run through the love and support someone else gave us and return for our refill. And keep returning unless we learn to refill ourselves. I’d rather generate my own love, affection, comfort, and support because my supply is infinite. The love, affection, comfort, and support coming from me never ends and never will end. And I don’t need a telephone or a computer to access it either, it’s right here with me at all times.
So here I am, back to self-love, back to filling up my own cup of happiness, back to relying on myself to meet my needs. Turning to myself for the unconditional love and support I crave. And I see how the more I love and approve and accept myself as I am, the more I can do that for others. Once I fill up myself, any leftovers can be given to other people.
The other issue Ryan’s death brought up for me was fear. Fear of what will happen to me. Fear I won’t realize my dreams. Fear of the future, which really means lack of trust. Lack of trust what’s best for me will happen. Lack of trust I’ll be taken care of. I would like to release my need for fear and instead turn my fear into trust and that’s done through love. Love for me and love for the Supreme.
Because life is magical, I of course came across this post on Louise L. Hay’s website (which I recommend reading) that deals with this very subject. Louise articulates exactly what I’ve been feeling using the exact same imagery. Before I came across the article, I wrote an email to a friend saying how I think fear obscures our brightness. How fear is like a cloud that blocks out the sun. And how I’d rather live in the light. How I’d rather realize my own magnificence. In fact, that’s one of the affirmations Louise recommends: “I am now willing to only see my magnificence.”
I realize I created this mental pattern, this need for fear, but so too I realize I can uncreate it. I have the power to change my mind and I use that power to create a life I wish to lead. I want to feel loved at all times. I want to feel safe at all times in all situations. I want to trust in my Creator and my Creator’s plan for me. I want to realize my magnificence and rise above thoughts that attempt to make me afraid. I am already cradled by the divine in each and every moment – now it’s up to me to remember that.
I dream of a world where we love ourselves unconditionally. Where we feel safe in the here and now. Where we release our need for fear. Where we recognize ourselves to be bright, shining stars. A world where peace and harmony reign. A world where we feel at ease because we know and trust all our needs will be met. A world filled with magic and wonder and awe. A world where we see everything as an expression of an infinite, loving consciousness, ourselves included.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This weekend my friends and I talked a lot about myth and metaphor and how metaphors shape a person’s worldview. Myths and metaphors are important because they affect how we act and interact. For instance, if a person’s personal metaphor is that she is superwoman, she will attempt to do too much and swoop in and save others, and often to her detriment. Or if a person’s worldview is that we are all one big family, he or she will treat others with love, respect, and compassion.
I’m still working out what my personal metaphor is, but what I can tell you is it’s changing and thus how I’m showing up in the world is changing.
I love the phoenix myth and the idea of being reborn after destruction.
At my core I am a loving person – I have a huge heart and I care deeply about all living beings. However, because I am so sensitive, especially when I was younger I didn’t feel safe being my loving, soft and feminine self. The world felt too big, scary, and rough. Like dropping a teddy bear in a field of velociraptors – if you do, it’s going to get ripped to shreds. My solution was to become like a medieval knight and put on loads of armor. If I wore armor that meant I wouldn’t get hurt. But my true self is loving and love is expansive; it doesn’t want to be contained and is not satisfied with existing inside a suit of armor.
Something about this whole Saturn return thing that I’m still undergoing is stripping away false beliefs and ways of being. Even as I wanted to be a medieval knight, even as I aspired to be hardhearted and fierce, I don’t think anyone ever actually perceived me that way. My point, and the reason for the title of this post, is that sometimes we think we know who we are, but often our perception doesn’t match up to reality. And more importantly, if we change the deep underlying story we operate from, we change how we show up in the world.
More and more I’m becoming love personified, that’s who I really am, that’s how most people perceive me I think. I want my new story to be that it’s safe to be soft, feminine, vulnerable, and loving. I want my perceived weakness to become my greatest strength. I want to exist in the world as I actually am, not who I think I should be.
I’m driving at two points here: 1.) who we think we are is often not who we actually are and 2.) the personal narrative we operate from is deeply important. I’m advocating that we realign who we actually are with a story that works for us and works for the betterment of the world.
I dream of a world where we each show up authentically. A world where we allow ourselves to be who we really are. A world where we take a closer look at the metaphorical stories we’re operating from and decide if they’re working for us. A world where we understand we can change our stories and as we change our stories we change our lives.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve been dancing around this topic for the past two years (probably longer), but on Wednesday night I finally understood on a very deep level how much my higher power mitigates disaster.
I’ve already talked about how I’m a big scaredy cat, how I worry a lot and try to anticipate danger. You could say I’m hypervigilant. In my mind, if I worry long enough I’ll prevent something from happening, or be able to handle it once it does because I’ve thought about it so freaking much. I’m ready to let that go.
So. Wednesday night. My neighbor decided it was a brilliant time to get drunk and high and talk REALLY LOUDLY with another neighbor while outside. Because after midnight on a weekday is a perfect time to act belligerent, right? The really funny, magical thing is this week I was already zonked and asked my bosses for Thursday off. How crazy that the night my neighbor decides to be loud is also the night I don’t have to worry about when I go to sleep because I don’t have work the next day?
Higher power mitigates danger not by making ice thick, but by putting up signs when it’s thin.
It was as if higher power was saying to me, “Look, stuff happens. People can be inconsiderate, but I will create circumstances so you’re always taken care of. I will make sure your needs are met.” When I look back on my life for the last three years, I see that thread consistently. I see that higher power couldn’t change the behavior of my neighbors, so taking care of me meant moving several times, meant going to Tucson, meant going back to D.C., meant a million little things that all add up to making sure I was always OK.
In the past, I think I’ve been a little blinded, a little immature, a little controlling because I wanted the world to bend to my whims. I wanted my upstairs neighbor to never play loud music ever, I wanted my downstairs neighbor to be nicer and for her dog to stop barking, I wanted the world to be the way I wanted without realizing that’s not possible. What is possible is arranging circumstances so I don’t have work the next morning, or will stay somewhere else when my cottage has plumbing issues, or will be out of the house when someone breaks in.
God/brahma/higher power/the universe/source/spirit is infinite and creative. I can let go of how I want things to be, of how I think others should behave in favor of the knowledge that whatever happens, I will be OK. I will be taken care of because my higher power does a great job of mitigating disaster and ensuring not that bad things will never happen, but if they do, my needs will still be met.
I dream of a world where we realize the world doesn’t bend to our whim, but circumstances will be created to ensure everything is alright. A world where we know we are always taken care of. A world where we relax, let things go, and trust in our concept of something greater than ourselves.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Lately I’ve come to realize I haven’t been standing in my power. I haven’t been owning my abilities and have been selling myself short. I’m afraid of the future, the “what ifs” because I haven’t been recognizing myself as a key player, and instead have been viewing myself as a victim, as someone who has to take and accept whatever happens. And because I’ve been cultivating a victim mentality, I live in fear of what may happen.
I don’t know if that made any sense, but I think a good metaphor is being afraid of riding a bus driven by a drunken maniac. I do NOT want to be on that bus and I am ridiculously afraid of riding it. What I forget is that I have a choice as to whether or not I step foot on the bus. Owning my power means remembering I have a choice, means remembering things are not definite, not a given, not guaranteed.
It’s such a powerful moment in the “Lord of the Rings” when Gandalf declares, “You shall not pass!”
I guess what I’m encouraging here is remembering our part to play in events and circumstances. When we’re feeling afraid, to say, “Wait, I have options here!” The idea that I have no choice; that I’m saddled with an unpleasant event I cannot affect is what really freaks me out.
If I could, I’d like us to do an exercise where we access our inner power. Please stand up with your feet shoulder width apart, arms relaxed by your side, eyes closed. Feel your energy go into the earth, grounding yourself. Now imagine the energy coming back up through your feet and let it settle in the trunk of your body. For me, I feel the energy the most in my heart and my stomach. Now let that energy radiate out like rays of sunshine throughout your body. You are standing in your power.
When we’re empowered people we’re like Gandalf declaring, “You shall not pass!” I can only speak for myself, but when I’m empowered I feel safe, I feel at peace, OK with whatever’s to come because I know I can handle it. I trust myself and my abilities and I really believe like I wrote last week that I am my own best friend.
My intention is to feel this way more and more frequently and to remind myself I don’t need to feel afraid of the future, of the what if’s, of the things that are out of my control because I am a powerful person who can confront whatever I’m faced with. And I have that dream for you too.
I dream of a world where we own our power. A world where we’re in our bodies fully present. A world where we remember we always have other options. A world where we remember we are capable beings who can handle whatever life throws at them. A world where we are our own heroes.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.