mind games are possible because the mind is the greatest weapon in our possession. like any handgun, self-inflicted casualties are likely when this weapon is handled without care.
with a bit of circumstantial evidence, gut feelings, suspicion, and a piece or two of hard evidence, the mind can spin a narrative so convincing, we believe it as if we witnessed it. to doubt its validity makes us question our judgment, and challenge the reason we dismissed in the process of crafting the narrative. and as if it held a gun to our temples, we refuse to disregard that story our speculative sleuthing has written, because our minds have convinced us it is true. or else.
things are only as important as we think they are. we assign value and meaning to everything around us, and treat those objects and ideas according to their worth. but the danger is a fearful mind; no weapon so powerful should be handled by something so irrational.
“Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly my love, not nearly.” – Fiona Apple
the ache motivates us to seek comfort. but it also drives that antidote away, shortens its shelf life. emptiness is too cumbersome a void to fill by anyone except its host. because the ache, it is cloistered in fear. fear is empty. yet it is weighted with need, expectation, and dependence. fear is all at once wanting and incapable of love.
until i looked my fear in its hapless face, and saw how it sagged with emptiness, i could not receive love. I could not receive what i could not be. instead, i received who and what i was, and consummated my fear. for as long as i was empty, so i would be.
we attract what we are, and accept what we believe we deserve. like lint on a felt roller, all that was lacking in joy and love clinged to me. it jumped on and held on fiercely because i thought it was meant for me. it was not until i put down the burden of fear that i could see how weightless faith is by comparison. learning to believe i deserved and would find better led to faith that i would. accepting only what brought me joy began with giving it to myself.
hope is many things, but fearless is not one of them. put fear in a linen dress and strappy sandals, and let the wind tousle her hair, and before you will stand hope. her conviction will challenge even her inner skeptic, so much that she believes her hope is more than an illusion.
faith, she is bold. faith has the power of her conviction, and needs not play dress-up for others. she wears what looks best on her, and is most suitable for the occasion. she does not see defeat in setbacks, anymore than she sees triumph in success. faith has no time to waste worrying, because she’s too busy being proactive. where hope and fear lie passively in waiting, faith is doing. faith is action.
when i am most uncertain about tomorrow, my hands instinctively reach for the linen dress, although i know better. for once the sun settles behind the horizon and the dress lies in a wrinkled heap in the basket, fear walks barefoot across my floors. i know that wherever hope walks, fear is in tow, as they are inseparable. i must update my wardrobe if i am to embrace the timeless fashion of faith.
If Hope were currency, I could afford an island. Each day, full of wishes for something long coveted. My hopes are always for things beyond my control. Even if it’s simply a day better than yesterday. Hope is empty. But not weightless. Its price tag is the burden of Fear. We cannot afford to live on an island of fear. There is no freedom in freedom.