I am finding the word FEAR showing up everywhere the last few days. In song lyrics, poems, conversations, inquiry questions. It is jumping out at me off the page, off the screen, through the speakers, and I can’t help but be curious about that.
What is FEAR trying to point me toward?
I am aware that I am in a bit of a holding pattern. My shoulders may be slightly elevated toward my ears. I probably need to exhale. I’m waiting. Waiting for the election results. And what awaits us on the other side.
I am aware that things will probably get worse before they get better. And in that unknown lies the fear. Just how much worse??
Someone said to me recently that the opposite of fear is ACCEPTANCE. It landed so simply in my lap when she said that. My body released some tension that I wasn’t consciously holding. Of course.
Rather than bracing myself, steeling myself, fighting against my resistance to step into the next moment, I can simply recognize my resistance and be with it. I don't have to change it. I don't have to make my experience more productive or more profound.
It doesn’t mean I have to accept injustice or poisonous rhetoric or things that come my way that I want no part of. I can use my voice and my actions to work for good and for the sake of a beautiful future.
It does mean that I can accept that this is a discomforting time, that it is hard, that much of what feels hard is out of my control.
It means I can stop holding my breath.
This uncomfortable moment is my current reality, just like the cold rain.
I can envision worst case and best case scenarios for how the next week or two play out, and it won’t change a thing. I am in a place of discomfort and there is nothing to do but allow it to be uncomfortable.
In fact, in doing so, that place gets just a little less uncomfortable.
It’s like that particularly challenging yoga pose - melting into the resistance rather than trying to push through it brings release.
I guess we call that surrender.
So, I am surrendering to this uncomfortable place of not-knowing. Not-knowing what awaits even in the near term and not-knowing when the not-knowing will end.
When I invite acceptance and surrender, it opens my heart a bit more. It fosters a spirit of generosity and gratitude, and nurtures a little thing called hope.
Which is perhaps not such a little thing after all.
What does acceptance have to offer you in this moment? What would it mean to surrender?
What is FEAR trying to point me toward?
I am aware that I am in a bit of a holding pattern. My shoulders may be slightly elevated toward my ears. I probably need to exhale. I’m waiting. Waiting for the election results. And what awaits us on the other side.
I am aware that things will probably get worse before they get better. And in that unknown lies the fear. Just how much worse??
Someone said to me recently that the opposite of fear is ACCEPTANCE. It landed so simply in my lap when she said that. My body released some tension that I wasn’t consciously holding. Of course.
Rather than bracing myself, steeling myself, fighting against my resistance to step into the next moment, I can simply recognize my resistance and be with it. I don't have to change it. I don't have to make my experience more productive or more profound.
It doesn’t mean I have to accept injustice or poisonous rhetoric or things that come my way that I want no part of. I can use my voice and my actions to work for good and for the sake of a beautiful future.
It does mean that I can accept that this is a discomforting time, that it is hard, that much of what feels hard is out of my control.
It means I can stop holding my breath.
This uncomfortable moment is my current reality, just like the cold rain.
I can envision worst case and best case scenarios for how the next week or two play out, and it won’t change a thing. I am in a place of discomfort and there is nothing to do but allow it to be uncomfortable.
In fact, in doing so, that place gets just a little less uncomfortable.
It’s like that particularly challenging yoga pose - melting into the resistance rather than trying to push through it brings release.
I guess we call that surrender.
So, I am surrendering to this uncomfortable place of not-knowing. Not-knowing what awaits even in the near term and not-knowing when the not-knowing will end.
When I invite acceptance and surrender, it opens my heart a bit more. It fosters a spirit of generosity and gratitude, and nurtures a little thing called hope.
Which is perhaps not such a little thing after all.
What does acceptance have to offer you in this moment? What would it mean to surrender?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional life coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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