Nope, what I like resides in the mind and gut, refusing to budge until I fling wide the gates and take a full-on gander at the roiling contents. By then, the fear of whatever [failure at writing/being overweight/losing a child/losing my faith] has oozed out, far beyond a possible return behind said gates. It's there, ugly and a bit scary, or a trainload of scary, and in need of action. Either I wade in, wrestle it, figure out how to eradicate, extricate and otherwise empty it, or I willingly surrender to it and allow the toxic flow to wash completely over me, to envelop, enfold and enter my every psychic nook and cranny. I rather prefer my nooks and crannies room to breathe, thank you very much, so then the war is on, often epic in scope, battles at every bend in the thought road. Battles from which I don't always emerge as victor. Those are the ones where I remind myself that there are a few strategies and troops at my disposal. Friends, family, information, counseling, medication, prayer. Because, as they say and has been proven time and time again, you can lose a few battles but still win the war.
I was raised to understand that fear should not be the victor. But fear can be an excellent tool for personal growth --there aren't too many things that feel better than overcoming: this is the aspect of fear that I like, or perhaps 'welcome' is the better word. The way one welcomes a flooding rain which washes away all evidence of clay-cracking drought and ushers in all that is lush and green. Even if that means you are literally peeing your swimsuit all the way down the multi-storied waterslide at Water World in Denver, quite certain you may have actually achieved more than just a mere emptying of the bladder! (In these types of instances, in which one tackles an immediate physical fear within safety parameters, simply so that the fear does not rule you or your bladder or your bowels, achieving it ONCE is MORE than enough!)
It took me awhile to realize that fear cannot be conquered until it is first identified. Knowing the enemy is key. And the enemy can be quite deceiving and alluring at first, second, or even third glance. The kind of fears of which I write don't resemble spiders or snakes or clowns (I blame this one on Stephen King, as clowns enjoyed an uplifting reputation before his revamping of said famed circus performer). They inhabit the gray matter beneath our skulls, the nerve ending traversing out bodies, the deep recesses of our spiritual beings, masquerading as ideas and perspectives and supposed logic. From them spring all manner of diseased thinking, from anorexia to racism to suicide. Often, they are rooted in nonsense allowed in from an external source, but they raced in unidentified as a future danger, and there they take root, festering like a cancer, until they eventually push against the vital spaces around them and reveal their presence. Upon that revelation, don your armor and brandish your sword!
At least arachnophobia makes sense from an logical standpoint of bites, venom, and multi-legged crawly buggers which don't possess the typical cuddly lovable attributes of puppies and kittens which generally appeal to human beings. (Having said that, spiders enjoy a special place in my mind as things of wonder, purpose and beauty in the natural world.) There's a visceral trigger which warns a person to protect against a possible danger because even in their usefulness, a spider can be a harmful thing in the right circumstances. This type of fear doesn't have to stop us from pursuing a vital life unless there are plans to star in "Snakes On A Plane Part 2: Invasion of the Arachnids". Unless you live in Australia where poisonous and venomous snakes and spiders abound in unusually high numbers: seriously consider relocation. I never hear about such things in, say, Antarctica.
I leave you with a collection of lovely photos, some in macro, which leave little to the imagination and perfectly illustrate my point. But here. Take a look for yourself and see what I mean.
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