My worst fear? Okay, here’s my mental process on that particular question: Humm…the leaky bathtub that is turning my walls into goo; the balding tires; the quote unquote financial slum in which we find ourselves; my frickin’ neighbor who cannot let up on using gas-powered yard devices on Sunday mornings…doesn’t he know I am writing, here? (Okay, that would be under the topic of things that piss you off ); there’s my on-going struggle with independence, yet fearing I will get in trouble for it…that if I exert myself at work, I will in some way pay the piper for it; there is the fear that I won’t be able to provide for my children…even simple things like a cello, or a used car, much less college; there is the fear I have for my true-blue artist husband–not a drop of money from painting sales in the last 14 months; and then there are the garden-variety-neurotic fears of dust bunnies, piles, missing spoons, and cat food ground into the tiled kitchen floor; then there is the fear that my face and butt are looking a tad bit older today, than yesterday; then there are those universal fears of covert governments and that our constitution is now meaningless amidst a severely moneyed economy; then there are my related historical fears, that JFK, Robert Kennedy, post Mecca Malcolm X, and MLK were all taken out to derail the Civil Rights movement; then there are the children fears…particularly for my son who has survived depression and is three months away from surviving and enduring the American-style educational system…I fear, will he make it? Will he be able to maintain a perspective and a willingness to finish the fight with honor? And then there is religion… I so fear the entire unreflective gang that have white-washed a whole lot of dry rot in the name of Jesus; who then think, armed with the delusion that God is on their side (a notion shared by the witch-burning crowd in Salem and pretty much every right-winged fundamentalist and European monarch of all time) that they are the arm of God, empowered with the task of shaping up the masses; Oh, and speaking of masses, I fear those whose governing notions are more like Alexander Hamilton’s rather than Thomas Jefferson’s; I fear close-door meetings; I fear mass hysteria; I fear the Costco-American Idol kinda of mentality; you know, that I-do-not-care-what-is-happening-in-the-world as long as I can have my super sized hot dog and a good show; I fear people’s unresolved pain or issues visiting that national stage, like they did during the McCarthy era; I fear things wearing out when I don’t have money to replace them; but what I fear most of all is simply this: that I won’t have the faith to push this plethora of fears off the table of my consciousness today. That somehow they will poison the little garden of faith I am cultivating. For you see, even though every shred of evidence in this noisy world begs to differ, I have this crazy notion that my faith shapes my reality. That belief proceeds a miracle; and that we create our lives by our hopes.
Yeah, I know…just look at the papers…the news…but I don’t listen. Mainly because people say what they are paid to say these days. But it is also because I think faith works best when I don’t know how impossible my dream might be, or how absolutely difficult it might be to accomplish. Seems like you need to be a bit shy of a few brain cells to achieve the impossible. So turning fear into faith is my greatest hope for the day…for with that state of mind…all the other fears shrivel down to the size of the dust bunnies that dance along the wooden surface of my floors.