I’m finding my fears are directly proportional to how much I am capable of loving. The more I grow, spiritually, intellectually, emotionally, the more I fear. And I wonder how that can be?
I know that the opposite of fear is faith – I know that fear is unhealthy. I know this, and yet I am scared.
For me, this is also growth. When for years (other than my son) I didn’t fear losing something, not caring enough to be afraid – this is growth.
Faith I can work on.
The ordinary seems more ordinary to me lately. All the childhood dreams and hopes I had for myself are keeping me up at night. I want the fantastic. The magical. The fairy tale.
For years I did not believe anymore. Like a wide-eyed audience member discovering the secret behind a magicians trick – such disappointment.
The past few years I have been finding my own magic. Slowly. And finding myself open to believing again. Then out of nowhere, as if a reward for opening my eyes, destiny put more in my path.
I think my fear stems from not wanting to suddenly see another trick revealed.
No, I do not want to sit in naivety. But to have wonderment at what life can bring – to be surprised and to feel anything is again possible – I want more than anything.