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.