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Fear, Change and What Feels Real

Posted in Live Your Passions, and Trust The Universe

Seven am, Solstice Eve,                                                                       the waning, yet still-round moon is setting over bush, the sun already high, tomorrow is our longest day of the year, here in southern Earth

I take a cleansing dip in a wavy sea – the breeze is fresh, my ever-present low-grade shark fear is with me as I duck under and breast-stroke, eyes closed

We coastal dwellers have heightened shark awareness these days,           three deaths in three years in a community filled with surfers, swimmers and divers                                                                                                       we all know we are more likely to be killed through accident or design by one of our own species

still we allow this ancient, reptilian-brain fear of anihilation to shape our lives

And yet I find I must swim                                                                        become one with the ocean for just those few minutes

Maybe this shark attack focus can function as a metaphor for life,                  is it revealing something deeper within our collective psyche?                          Do we feel the same fear of death when we want to make big changes in our lives? Let go of that job, relationship, unhealthy habit….No?

Then why do we falter, avoid change, remain stuck and unfulfilled?

Perhaps we experience the disapproval of others, and the loss of face, status, income, self-esteem or security as a death of sorts                                   He and I were told we were brave when we left the old and created life anew for our family two years ago                                                                             I feel it is braver to keep persisting in old patterns, keeping one’s chin up amid a soul-destroying existence while sacrificing the desire’s of the heart

I’ve been there

Eight am, walking home                                                                           swinging my damp salty hair around to shoo the flies and grimacing as one foot kicks the sharp end of a stick into the other big toe, drawing a dot of blood        I smile and I think, this is real, this is me

I’m home

Friendly sea
Friendly sea

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