I have brought my big city fear to the lakeshore.
The thought drifts through my mind as I sit on the dock, the moon a semi-orb of golden light above me, one half dark, one half light. Clouds scuttle in front of it, drifting effortlessly across the night sky as silently as the thoughts drifting through my mind.
I have brought my big city fear to the lakeshore.
I sit in the dark and feel the silence. I hear the water lapping against the wooden rungs of the dock. I hear the autumn breeze whispering through the trees.
I let fear drift away like a leaf undulating on the water’s surface, bobbing along in the water’s pull, moving further out of sight.
Fear is like that. It visits in moments of quiet. In the dark. It lives buried somewhere within me, waiting to rise up and disturb my peace of mind.
I visited with Brenda Missen yesterday. She’s the writer I mentioned meeting Friday night. I read her book over the weekend. Tell Anna I’m Safe is a ‘can’t put it down’ kind of read. A thriller but more than that, a deep psychic journey into the fears, and promises, that live at the heart of our being human.
We talked about fear yesterday. About living in the wilderness, alone, along a lake. Brenda feared bears and then, she took herself into the woods. Alone. With just her canoe and dog. She made friends with her fear. Bears are now her companions on the trail. Silent, mostly unseen sentinels along her journey.
Brenda doesn’t lock her doors. She doesn’t fear.
I admire her. Not fearing. I admire her willingness to simply explore. Her inner being. The world deep within her. To not fear the journey. To simply be open to discovery.
Sitting on the dock, alone, late at night, a few pinpricks of light far along the shore, far in the distance from other cottages where the occupants still rest by the lakeshore, I realize…I know too much fear. I want to let it go.
What is this fear I feel, I ask myself? Where does it arise from?
I come back to the house. Climb up through the dark woods without the aid of my flashlight. My eyes have adjusted to the dark. I am comfortable finding my way without the aid of artificial light. I let my senses guide me.
Your fear is man-made. It is of your history, the ever present voice within me whispers. Let it go.
The others have gone to bed. The house is quiet. I close the door behind me. I choose to not lock it.
C.C. is sleeping when I crawl beneath the covers. I close my eyes. My mind imagines the unlocked door. It is hammering at my senses. The door is unlocked.
I beathe.
Yes it is.
People don’t lock doors here. Far off the beaten path. Tucked within the forest. At the water’s edge. People don’t lock their doors.
And in the city, it is important to lock the door. It is a statement of not letting fear enter. Of stating unequivocally, my home is my sanctuary. Fear from out there has no place to enter.
Here. Where the wind whispers through the trees. Where forest meets lake and stars shimmer in the night sky and clouds fly by unimpeded, there is no separation of out there and in here. There is only nature. Our nature. Your nature. One world. One planet. One people. One nature.
I breathe into the quiet of the night. C.C. sleeps on. I close my eyes. I close my thoughts to fear and welcome in the night.
I let it go. I let my senses guide me to that place within where fear slips out beneath the unlocked door. Out into the night.
There is nothing to fear but fear itself, said Winston Churchill in the darkest nights of World War 2.
There is nothing to fear but my thinking, I remind myself in the night and let thoughts of my fear drift away.
I slept soundly.
Letting go of fear makes a difference.
Dare Boldly 
Your piece reminds me how easy it is to import fear–to bring it into situations where there is no reason for it–and the trouble that leads to. Thanks for calling this out.
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And thank you Dan for commenting — you’re right. It is easy to import fear into situations where it does not belong. Thanks for the reminder. Blessings!
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When I lived in BC I didn’t lock my door. It wasn’t unsual for me to walk down the stairs when I woke up to find a neighbour sitting at my kitchen table, having made coffee and waiting for me to wake up. I always enjoyed these unexpected guests.
Fear is like that. It visits in moments of quiet. In the dark. It lives buried somewhere within me, waiting to rise up and disturb my peace of mind. I love this line Louise, it’s so true, fear waits for me in the quiet times.
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What a beautiful way to live Diana — that kind of trust — because that is the opposite of fear — is so enlivening. Wow!
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I do remember those days as my early retirement years hahaha! Those were amazing times.
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Tee hee Diana!
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Guess what I often don’t look my doors well not during the day at night I do I don’t think I would be able to sleep without locking the doors………….
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I am challenged to sleep without locking the doors too Joanne — which given my hosts don’t lock the door is a wonderful lesson in trusting the night and quietening the voices in my head that would have me give into fear! Hugs
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I like the image of the mist rising from the lake like the fear dissipating as you tucked away for the night.
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Thank you Susan! Taken with my iPhone 🙂 — and that is what it felt like for me too. Fear drifting away.
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I grew up in a place; and also lived my adult life in a place; without having to lock doors. The fear you describe would have been completely foreign to me except, sadly, it is something that has entered my life since living alone (along with locking doors!) You are correct in that it is a state of mind. But also unfortunately a product of modern society, higher home invasions. Etc.
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Hi Elizabeth — so true — in today’s world of city scapes and higher crime rates, locking doors in the city is vital to our safety and peace of mind.
Thank you so much for dropping in!
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I could feel my heart get tight
as my own fear crawled up to listen
over my shoulder
as you spoke of leaving doors unlocked
and going alone to the woods
and i got to have an opportunity
to separate myself
from this mind-painter
and it did my soul
so much nourishing good.
thank you.
THANK you
for this solid step to stand up onto.
I feel a release.
glad and grateful,
Jennifer
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Jennifer,
I love the poetry of your words
the depth of your soul
the beauty of your spirit
shining light
in darkness
casting a glow
to illuminate the path
home.
I hope your visit with your son is beautiful and peaceful.
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I just pushed the publish button on my post – then I come here and you have added to the arsenal that the Universe is hurling my way with those simple words “Letting go of fear makes a difference”
I know, I know, know
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Across the ocean, across the miles — we are in sync!
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