Ending the Trickster’s Fear

Fear is the second greatest motivator of human activity. Love being the first.


Now, when I write such a proclamation review your own life as regards where love and fear rank for getting you to act. Never take my word to heart unless it is true to your experiences. I am no guru, self-help teacher, or fancy ass youlube talking head giving you insight. Got it?


Poets for thousands of years send out messages about love, few write about fear. Artsy types prefer to not delve into the shadows for too long in trepidation of being swallowed by our own intrinsic pestering negativity. We throw-up and out verses to exalt love like archaic shamans of Sanskrit, even when we are deep in our emotional cups of blackness and fifty shades of gray. I suppose even in a death grip realizing we must alleviate the pain of self-loathing we are mostly unwilling to see our madness of dread let alone accept and change it.


We, the over sensitive ones, loudly weep for a longing to live in the light and feel the wonder of love – no matter how we slink around the issue or how we act or talk our goal is to live without unpleasantness or being upset or annoyed. Desire is not what I am alluding to, nor sexual pleasure although these are components operating in fear and love. Within any bubble of contentment, we contend joy with another, God, nature, visions, our inner selves, and our imaginations can capture us and heal our woes. Good vs. evil is a simplistic myth abused to get us to follow something other than our own intuition and inner voice. All us versus them societal games are in human attendance to frighten and repress our built-in need to be free of fear.


Occasionally, at the rare intersection of God being present or in a catharsis we surrender and discover the paradigm of paradoxes and have to decide the biggie. Are we ruled by our mindless fears or do we let our hearts lead the way and throw caution and stubbornness aside in favor of confidence and trust of our selves and others?


The love affair of human life is not exactly what they preached to you when you were ten year years old, or on your twenty-first birthday, is it? As intensely as Gollywood or Bollywood or Egyptian soap operas or the various tomes of God are speaking at us, each of us must get to the crossroads, on our own, and figure out what modality of being we prefer, fear-based or the foundation of love? Some label this reaching one’s bottom or coming to the foot of the cross or some other deciding moment so intense it changes one forever, or at least during the rest of one’s life span on Earth. I deploy the Dixie Cup metaphor. Once slid down to the bottom of the cup of our own making we drown in our mind fucks (read self imposed cons) or learn to swim on the rising tide.


Why we must fall over the cliff into the abyss is not important if you have been there and survived. Selecting to live in love over the insanity of daily repetition of going nowhere too fast only works if you keep it in the moment. Projecting what might happen, or could happen or did not happen is maya and the basis of existing not living.


Fear clings to our ego-bent weaponry with an offense being the best defense to fight and triumph over what? Why would any sentient being languish his or her spirit in dread of what is not known, or might be, or might not be? Ok, so I grew up with the echo of “oh yea, of little faith” yet self-reliance was in the equation. Being fearless spreads like wildfire across one’s personal landscape yet getting to this juncture is daunting if no one was a decent role model in your childhood or youth. Those who find mature humble enlightenment cannot go back to the cave or live in the box canyon, any longer. Once out in the open plain kneeling within the spiral enchanted by love we stand the course of time where liberty of our soul is realized.


I can no longer go back to childish days of being afraid of the boogey man living in my bedroom closet. I am free of this scary demonstration of my developing emotions ruling my perception. Being released from this symptom was not accomplished alone. My mother left the night light on and made sure the closet door was shut before I went off to sleep. She also read to me stories of wonder not fairy tales of fear at the side of my bed until I went off to dreamland. I know she kissed by brow and said a prayer even though my consciousness was in asleep. Once I reached the ripe age of five years old I stood, by myself, in front of the closet door, and used a faked princess wand to wave away the intruder I felt was messing with me. The experience is no different than standing up for love and saying to the inner demons of insecurity, fuck off.


If you truly love someone, there are no barriers to loving them, even if they cannot or will not reciprocate. What difference does it make if they ignore you because they are weak and full of fear? I see my role today as being here, in love, because loving is not about reciprocation from the other. The power of love is that it is. I have not got to the place where I can do the same for all of humanity. I am not the daughter of God. I am human. I get pissed off at the suffering delivered by other humans to other humans and precious Earth. Yet, I work on being neither a pawn to fear nor an agent of repression. Writing is the outlet for my inability to love humanity. As I have written recently, writing the truth is an expensive therapy as it requires a brutal self-honesty communicated without blame or shame.


Love ensconces us in fuzzy woozy vibes making us giggle with delight. Why would we prefer to muck around in depression and self-destruction? Freud, Jung, Laing, and so forth, our brethren of psychological understandings and psyche experimentation, put forth several realizations and paths to well being. Religiosity offers a conjunctive worldview. Swallowing mind-altering psycho-actives does too as does becoming a monk. There are various highways up the mountain. Yet, too many cannot even pickup the hiking stick let alone put one foot down on the trail.


Evil, the devil, and other voodoo rhythms of humankind are manifestations of fear. Those who seek to be rulers instill fear to gain faux higher ground, for what reason? We all know money and sitting in the catbird seat does not lead to immortality. Why would anyone sell out their ethics, their heart, and their inner vision to satisfy greed and power mongering? Terror of an empty tummy and/or bank account, dismay at how anxiety is knocking at the backdoor, falsely trying to fill up the emptiness within with more, waging war, sending out drones, lying to keep the con alive, and basically being stuck are excuses not reasons.


Depth, mettle, getting real, saying what you mean not what you think someone wants to hear, letting the universal heart step up to the plate, mindfulness, watchfulness, expressing creatively, connecting to the life forces of the cosmos, holding each other up, reaching across the divide and offering a cup of cool water, and riding a horse with no name across the desert while being present for one’s self and sharing love under every possible shitty circumstance is a mantra of peace.


Viable leadership in this century demands humans who practice this mantra otherwise dear ones, our species as a prototype of love conquering fear is useless.


I learned to love myself by ending the fearful acts of me hurting me, and subsequently others. Once I began to accept me as a gentle loudmouth who prefers being in love with life, beauty, and art while communing with nature I discovered a miracle. I am not alone. And, you are not either.


To you, my love, as me, as dumb and officious as it may sound – living in love is possible today. How blessed are we who smile and chuckle at our stupidities without judging. Awareness brings joy. Acceptance fosters kindness. Willingness to be soberly true is a feat of inner and outer tolerance and a positive sign. Personally, I see signs regularly how potent love is. I feel my heart gaining the weight of eternity. I realize my scrawny mission may never be revealed to me yet for these next twenty-four hours it makes absolutely no difference, one way, or the other, I live with being in love.


I am turning the night light on and getting out a book of wonder to read to you.



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