I think this is super interesting and something I’ve been ruminating on a lot. I know we can hold love and fear at the same time. I think we’re capable of being scared AND not letting that mess up our attraction point. For me (at this moment, I can change my mind at any moment 😉 ) love and fear aren’t on opposite ends, but a circle. Feeling fear is part of our human experience, just as love is- they need one another, we need the contrast.
Closer to the question, I believe that if we listen to our intuition and bodies, we know when that fear is productive vs destructive. And we know when we’re hurting ourselves and others. I don’t like being guided by fear, but sometimes it’s the journey. And sometimes it is required to work through our trauma and process. And in terms of love, I think that being in relationships of intimacy with someone else is one of the most fucked up things we do on this planet but it’s also a MASSIVE desire for everyone I’ve ever met. It’s two humans smashing all of our humanness together, and it’s fucking beautiful.
But I do know that taking full responsibility for the ish we can see in our lives- the trauma, the drama, etc- is the best thing for my attraction point. And that some of that trauma can be worked out by me, in my bed by myself. But some of it needs to be taken onto the field. There were/are parts of me that could only be healed in relationship. And each of my relationships have been very reflective of that. Note that it wasn’t about working out my issues ON someone, but with myself in couple with someone, as respectfully and responsible as possible.
When we don’t deal with our stuff, we’re rejecting ourselves and we attract others that will reject our wholeness as well. It’s real reckless for our souls.
I think the responsibility part changes our attraction point. You can still be afraid, but you love yourself because you choose to be with you, and the person you bring in with that vibration will too.
I think believing fully in love doesn’t mean living fearlessly but courageously, as you were discussing above. And courage means being like “welp, this is what I’ve got, I’m gonna give it everything I have and feel it all and let’s see what happens.” Again and again and again.
I wrote this post way back in October, and it’s taken a few months to feel ready to release it to the world. In the spirit of courage and daring greatly, here it is today.
I lost my father ten years ago today.
It all started with that little knot of anxiety in the back of my throat that just wouldn’t go away. His anniversaries (i.e. his birthday, his death, my parent’s anniversary…) always hit me in new and unexpected ways. Tonight, I feel gross and unsettled, like my jaw is aching and I can’t focus. Now, I’m lying in my bed journaling, trying to get the lump out of my throat one of the only ways I know how.
I spent a few years enveloped by shame over my father’s death, not because I had anything to do with it, or because I felt that I could have been there and the story would have ended differently, but because I didn’t feel devastated enough. To be sure, my father’s death hit me hard, brutally, viscerally. I have yet to feel that kind of pain again since, although the echoes of that loss still creep in like a quickly rising tide. I never got those carpe diem feelings- those ‘life is short so live it’ moments that drove me to see life differently and to Make It Count… my life just simply continued, without the fanfare.
When my father passed, I was on a year abroad program. Without going into the details, I immediately flew home, took part in all the ceremony and ritual that we surround ourselves in at times of death, and then two weeks later I made the decision, re-packed my bags and was on a plane back to school.
I sat in my host family’s car as we drove through the rainy night and was overcome with a calm knowing – an understanding that I was exactly where I needed to be.
My decision has always been part of the That Time My Dad Died story, but it wasn’t until tonight that I realized that this was That Life Changing Moment for me. And really, my life can be seen as a ripple effect outwards of this exact moment.
Today, when I think of losing my father, this moment is always the first to be conjured – not the fear, the anger, the sadness, the shame … but this private moment with myself. This connection to my own higher wisdom that everything was in it’s perfect place. That night, driving through those streets, is the closest I’ve ever felt to the Universe. I felt strength and an assurance in my own inner wisdom. A space opened inside of me that night that allowed the Universe and all its wisdom to rush in.
That knowing has coloured the way I see life and my current journey in it. It’s become so much a part of who I am and how I make decisions- how I’m motivated in my life– that I forget that it wasn’t always with me. It is through this loss that I continue to push my edges. It is what has created space for me to step into myself and for this I am grateful.