Fear is a primitive song of survival and can be found within any being. It weaves its song into our heart center, whispering words of caution, whispering words to keep us safe, to keep us alive. Fear is an archaic tool we all use with ourselves and the world around us.
To live in fear can mean to live in a cage, to be a bird who only sings of spreading their wings and taking to a wind current yet never does it. Fear is interwoven into all our songs, all our stories, in both healthy and unhealthy ways. Yes, fear can cage us, but it can also set us free.
Fear, to a great extent, is born from a story we tell ourselves, a story that we have the power to create and edit (remember, we hold the pens in the writing of our stories, even if we refuse to put pen to paper and take accountability for them). Thus, fear is something we can influence, something we can write in or write out, something we can change the lyrics of in our lives.
We can never be fully free of fear, but the role that fear plays in our lives–the particular lyrics fear owns–can be rewritten. We can embrace fear and fly with it. We can look at fear and challenge its truth, its place in our songs. We can release that lyric or we can dance with it to a different beat.
Fear will always be a tool, but it doesn’t have to stay archaic. Fear can become modern and powerful, deployed or released with deliberate introspection, intention, and love. We can step out of our cages and sing a new song. @Krystamaravilla
