Heart of Darkness, people. Don’t be afraid.
I remember spending a lot of time in French class, conjugating. One of my favorite conjugations was “afraid,” because the word for “afraid” is close was close enough to English word for “fear” that remembering it was instinctive. J’ai peur, vous avez peur, elle a peur, il a peur, nous avons peur, ils ont peur… There was something soothing about conjugating the word, and breaking fear down into its relative parts. I have fear. You have fear. He has fear. She has fear. We all have fear. Everybody’s petrified. No biggie.
I have recently spent time with the idea of fear — and conclude that I’m SO over it. I hate being afraid. We are all supposed to live fearlessly, and live out loud, and we all KNOW this, and yet, fear trips us up every time. SO much of what we do is motivated by it — either we do things so as not to appear afraid, or do OTHER things because we ARE afraid of doing those FIRST things. We fear being thought of only one way, or being thought of a PARTICULAR way. We fear being not thought of at all. We jump and jerk and duck and dodge, trying to run some weird labyrinthine obstacle course to finding a good life by avoiding or fulfilling some unprinted set of rules. It’s insane. And yet, it’s the state of our world.
Yesterday I had a friend flat-out tell me she was afraid of me — that she considered me formidable (please say this with the English accent, not the French, since formidable in French just means that you’re great. Which I would have preferred, but no.) and terrifying, and that she was waiting for the day when she would say something which would cause me not to like her anymore.
::shriek!::
Right. So, I scare people. Sadly, I knew this. I don’t know WHY, but I’ve known this. I’ve been scaring people since high school. (Okay, back then, sometimes it was downright handy…)
I think I intimidate my writing group sometimes, because I tend to be A Bit Too Emphatic about writing things. My “passionate” is another person’s “scary gesticulating chick who is raising her voice.” They critique my work, but for some it takes a lot of courage. (To be honest, I’m not sure what to do about that.)
The hilarious — okay, not really hilarious, but sort of pathetic — thing about all of this is that I’m pretty much the strange little wizard running Oz. (“PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!”) While I can organize and facilitate a writing group, and am good online, in person, I am usually petrified of speaking to anyone. And introverted, shy, tongue-tied, hyperventilating, and breaking out in a cold sweat. (Remember ALA, people??) And fearing that my bra strap is showing, and my shoes look weird. That sort of crap can, and does, paralyze me.
Gah. Fear. I’m SO over it.
This short piece by Emily Dickinson is not one of her clearer poems, but I like it well. There are a couple of versions — she revised so often that two of them actually got published, one in a 1950 “complete” collection, the other in 1988. The poem it self was written in 1874, as far as I can tell.
Emily writes in the “we” and in the “I” in the two versions of this poem. I prefer the more personal. What we fear — in Emily’s case, death, I think — we try on and see if it “fits,” like a set of clothes. We try it on in dismay and we despair. We are not ready for it — we hate the thought of it — we dread it. And it comes anyway, and hopefully by the time it arrives, we are calm, and it seems a less frightening thing.
XCVIII
(1277, from The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson)
WHILE I was fearing it, it came —
But came with less of fear,
Because that fearing it so long
Had almost made it fair —
There is a Fitting — a Dismay —
A Fitting — a Despair
‘Tis harder knowing it is Due
Than knowing it is Here.
They Trying on the Utmost
The Morning it is new
Is Terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through.
If the “utmost” is indeed The Worst That Can Happen, I would not want to carry that along every day. Much better to just try on that Utmost the morning it arrives, say, “Hello, Worst Thing. Come and get me,” and go out, just like that.
Today, ask yourself, “what’s the worst that can happen?” And then, move forward, and do what you want. I fear, you fear, s/he fears. We all fear. And we all have to deal with it.
Poetry Friday this week is at Read, Write, Believe – Sara’s place.
Ooh, I love this post–it’s because you’re smart, Tanita. And maybe a little of the Bit Too Emphatic! But not really too emphatic, just passionate. I do remember being surprised by how freaked out you were at ALA because you’re so dang eloquent and clearly your chances of blowing something by saying the wrong thing are so tiny that it’s hard to grasp why you’re so worried. But I’m totally the same way (just not eloquent), so I could relate, too.
And I adore this poem. It’s new to me. I am a master worrier, and if something bad is going to happen, I just want it to happen now and let me get over it and take action to deal with it. Um, other than death, of course, because there’s not much action I can take about that:>)
Rock on, intimidating woman!
We ARE cousins of the heart. I have been known to “intimidate” people.
Move on to the truly scary things in life, people. I am/we are just smart women who know our own minds. (and who are our own complicated mix of fear and confidence if you would bother to get to know the whole person)
Long distance ::hug and high five::
Your post and comments are making me think a lot. I deal with a lot of fear, and I also occasionally find that some people are intimidated by me even though I don’t feel very intimidating inside. I knew I wasn’t the only one who experiences these things, but it is a comfort every time I’m reminded that I’m not the only one.
You’re competent, Adrienne. That’s what does it for some people – competence. My eldest sister gets the same thing, even though she’s not necessarily physically prepossessing.
In your case it’s also the cute shoes. 😉
Ah,this post really resonated with me on many levels. First the idea of –“fear, I’m over it.” I’m not into self-help books at all and once a friend tried to get me to read one called “Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway.” I think I flipped through a few pages but honestly, years later all I remember is the title–which oddly enough, is all I need. I tell myself that all the time: OK, you’re afraid–feelings noted, now get to work.”
And then, the notion of others finding you intimidating. I’ve experienced that lately as a teacher. I co-teach a class and have been told at least twice that certain students don’t want to approach me because they’re afraid of me. At first my feelings were really hurt and I spent a lot of time trying to figure out *why* but finally–well, I mean, what I am going to do? It’s not like I ever yell or get mean with the students. So I just continue being professional and I continue to smile and I continue to teach. They’ll figure it out eventually.
Hah! Rachel, I love that title – and I’m with you, a catchphrase is about all I need. “Ooh, yes, bad-scary. Moving on…”
My students pretty well killed me with that fear thing, too. My fifth graders would sometimes quiver like rabbits, which actually made me weep, but one of my junior high kids said, “You make me feel so stupid with just a look,” which broke my heart. I did a lot of soul searching and tried to not be so demanding, but for me, teaching was in part ABOUT demanding a lot more than the student thought they might be willing to give — and then allowing them to find out they could give it. We all stretched, that was the point. And so — I sucked it up and said, “Fine, hate me, bad-scary. Moving on…” But it hurt for awhile. I’ve had to be the same about scaring my peers — just make sure I use a lot of words and keep smiling, and let it roll off of me.
Because I’m OVER it. Really. Tired. Of. Dealing. Y’know?
I’m sorry! I am a silly head. Obviously.
No sillier than the guy behind the curtain!
It was a good opening for discussion – no worries!
the day i realized that advertising, propaganda, and politics rely exclusively on their ability to invoke fear was when i decided i’d had enough of fear. now if only i could do the same with rejection…
weird mental image: emily dealing with her fear via yoga. that’s what i love about reading posts AND comments, the cross-pollination of thoughts and images!
…yeah, advertising. Turning off the TV, dropping magazine subscriptions and being verrrry picky about what I let in has really helped with the advertising thing, but not a lot helps the rejection thing!
Somewhere, Emily is doing a downward-facing dog…
I wish you hadn’t asked what was the worst that could happen, because I hadn’t been afraid of it recently till my imagination started going just now. Oh well. Onward! I’m going out in the storm tra la!
Oh, so *you’re* the one behind the curtain! 😛
I’m smiling at the thing about you scaring people (maybe it’s a nervous smile). I know what your friend means by “formidable.” To that, I would add intimidating (at times), powerful, brilliant, passionate, strong, and as Sara said, amazing. I wouldn’t say I was afraid of you. But you still have me guessing sometimes, which is a good thing.
Wrestling with FEAR is horrendous and exhausting. But most people do wrestle on a daily basis, some deal better than others. I wish I was better at it. I like the poem, especially in light of recent events.
Yes — in light of L.K. Madigan’s courage: the Utmost came, and she met it with dignity.
Someone said the opposite of fear isn’t courage, but love. And in yoga, the remedy for fear (chest tightness) is to do heart opening poses. The irritating thing is that you can make fear run off for awhile, but it always shows up again, the big bully. So you gotta do what Emily says. DEAL.
I love this post. And you’re aren’t the least bit terrifying. Only amazing.
I LOVE, love, love that the remedy to fear is OPENING YOUR HEART. That is profound on a cellular level. And thank-you.