What if . . .

I was thinking about fear the other day. Not my own fears (at least not initially!), but those of another. She wants to know what she might do with her life if she weren’t so governed by fear. What would it look like? What would she do? Who would be in her life? As I was listening, I had even more questions, most likely more about me, mainly: What if she opened up parts of her she’d closed down a long, long time ago?

I think we all ask this question from time to time. And if we’re honest, we can admit that we deliberately limit our lives, choose options as if “we have to” or as if “they’re clearly the right thing to do” when, in reality, it’s more likely that the fear to choose something else was stronger.

Of course, this line of questioning is usually reserved for moments when SOMETHING MAJOR HAPPENS. We check in with ourselves, take stock, come conscious to the way we are actually living our lives, allow ourselves a momentary awareness of what we choose to prioritize and do based on how we actually spend the minutes and hours of each day. As the SOMETHING MAJOR fades, we return to life as usual, slip back into unconsciousness, and the fears that hold in place all of our daily choices resume their place, unchallenged. We tell ourselves that we are so pleased that we’ve asked the question, feel so very brave and honest for having the courage to admit the discrepancy between thinking we do things for one reason and realizing we do them because we’re afraid. We’ve thought about it, asked the question, and we tell ourselves that’s enough; asking it proves we are as brave as we have to be. No one really expects us to answer it, do they? Think of the upheaval it would cause. No, after we ask the question, we put it away, tuck it somewhere where we’re unlikely to stumble on it again inadvertently.

I don’t know if this woman’s courage to ask the question will propel her to action, to choices she fears could turn out disastrously – except maybe they won’t – and, more truthfully, except that any decision or choice or action or inaction will ultimately lead to some kind of loss/change/withering/dying. Since we’re all locked into the human experience, we’ll all experience moments of tragedy. So why do we think we can avoid them – or that we should? Any decision I make is likely to result in something ending anyway – that’s how things go – cycle of life and all – things have beginnings, middles and ends. Even my breakfast today is now over. I don’t rail at the injustice of this ending, but I do when other things end. I don’t try to prolong breakfast as if every other meal will be a disappointment. And I certainly don’t want to avoid a meal just because it’s gonna end. But replace “meal” with some larger life decision – a relationship moment, a professional moment, requests that would draw me far outside my comfort zone, and the inevitable backing away response emerges. We back away from things we fear. We shouldn’t fear life. We shouldn’t fear mistakes, disasters, ruinous endings. They're going to come anyway!

What would it be like if we acknowledge our fears daily, wonder aloud about how we’re making choices, look not just at our calendars

of appointments and lists of daily/weekly/ annual tasks and chores and responsibilities and determine what, exactly, we have brought in to our life? Then we might be able to determine the mirror image –what is not in our life. Like those old visual perception exercises – where first we see the obvious, color-saturated image of what’s there, and if we look long enough, the empty space begins to take its own shape. Once we see it, we can never not see it. But most of us don’t look at the white spaces in our lives.

[photo from varenne.tc.columbia.edu]