The black tentacles encompass my heart,
The reddish purple, lava-like, swirls in my guts,
My breath shortens and accelerates,
My heart rate tunes into the changing movement
And adjusts itself accordingly.
My whole system is on alert,
Remembering why it is doing this.
What happened to me in days gone by
When I was ill-equipped to deal with
A situation related somehow to this new alarm.
My body is wise beyond imagining.
My body knows what it needs to do
To warn me of imminent danger or potential pain.
Some elemental precognition sets in motion
The familiar warning system.
I greet this feeling with some fond familiarity;
“Hello Fear”, I say, “I wonder why you are here today?”
Always the fear informs me. I thank it.
As I acknowledge it, Fear gives me space to survey it,
To compute the necessity for action – or not.
What I fear has not yet happened.
That is its wondrous paradox.
The object of fear may be physically before me,
Or an anticipated happening,
Tickling the edges then the forefront of my mind.
“Fear”, say I, “I am willing to negotiate.
“We shall share intelligence.
We can work out together what I need to do.
Do I need to fight, really? Do I need to flee, honestly?
Let me rest in your embrace instead.”
Accepting Fear’s feeling, I listen to its silent communication.
As I see it in its clarity, it passes through me,
The clinging thoughts flying away like thistledown.
Fear is not vanquished – it is honoured and listened to.
All that remains is the truth of now.