Sunday Prayer

What I know about fear is that it wants you to think that things are small.  That there is nothing in the world that is larger than the miniscule anxious thoughts that crowd your brain.  That there is no reason to lift your gaze and look outward.  That people and things and places are all unsafe and, above all else, the only way to be is separate.

I know so much about fear and I know so much about anger.  I'm a student of rage and worry.  I've worked so hard to do a lifetime of unlearning and shed myself of the claustrophobic voice in my head that tries to convince me that I am terminally unique---far off and alone and not part of it. 

But after aaaaaaaall of my study---after all of my reframing and journaling and rigorous examining and therapatizing and owning and co-creating and responsibility taking---I've come to know that The Separate Angry Fearful Voice is a big piece of lying doodoo, so as I take my own hand and I place it to my own chin and I lift my face up in order to look out above and over the expansive, unending landscape my prayer for myself is that I continue to unravel my puzzle prison thoughts and that I am able to cultivate the remnants of bravery I know I've always had so that I can keep my heart open in those moments when I forget who I truly am.

Please do not raise your hand if you have a question,
Professor Problematic