Vision and Fear

I am back, after quite a hiatus. I have been inspired by how many vendors I have worked with and purchased products from are now reaching out to offer their services free of charge. I am inundated with offers of free webinars. I am following their trail. I want to give back, too. I want to stay connected, more than ever. I live alone, true, but I am not feeling isolated. My work days are full of video chats and new collaborations. I feel awake and alive. I have hope that this breakdown can also be a breakthrough.

You will perhaps remember this Native American teaching story: A father says to his son, "Son, there are two wolves fighting inside me. One is fear and the other is love." The son asks, anxiously "Which wolf will win, father?" Father replies "Which ever wolf I feed." Which wolf will we feed?

It is so easy to stay in survival mode, and feed the wolf of fear. What I am thinking as I reboot this blog is that vision is more necessary than ever before, a sort of neutralizing agent to fear. Vision and love, of course. I have a little practice I have used over the years. When I am fearful about an event or a conversation I am about to step into, I just imagine myself beyond it. I'll picture myself walking in the forest or sipping a cup of coffee AFTER the fearful event is over. Somehow, that vision always pulled me out of the paralysis of fear.

You might ask "How can we vision the future, when everything is up in the air? Isn't that naive?" I am not talking about a vision of a specific sort of our outcome as much as a vision of who we want to be in the future, and a vision of our planet moving to a place of greater health and love. I want to envision things that I will create, without being attached to a particular outcome or form. This present moment can be a place of fear and worry, but it can also be the place from which we create a healthier and more loving future.

Yesterday morning I ventured out to Trader Joe's, my first trip to a grocery store in about ten days. I was there a few minutes after they had opened, but already there was a line outside. I found my way to the end of the line, standing dutifully 6 feet behind the person in front of me. It was raining, a light drizzle, and I was enjoying the sound of raindrops on the hood of my jacket. The line moved slowly. When 5 people exited, 5 new customers were admitted. I spent about 20 minutes in that line before I made it into the store. It was quiet. Very quiet. I wanted to reach out and talk, although I am not usually friendly with strangers. I felt like we were all experiencing something very unique in human history, and I wanted to hear others' stories.

Why was no one talking? Why would no one make eye contact? The only exception to this was when a woman spotted someone she knew across the parking lot. There was a brief, enthusiastic hello and a few words from across the distance, then we all resumed our silence. It was clear to me that only those who were known were safe. Everyone else was unknown, and someone to fear. Maybe I am overstating this, or spinning a story that just wasn't there, but the insularity frightened me. Physical distance doesn't not have to be social distance.

We can give in to fear and isolate ourselves. We can also envision new ways of being and connecting. We can get creative with this brave, new world we find ourselves navigating. I will not feed the wolf of fear. I choose vision. I choose love. Please join me in conversation. I want to know your stories and deepen our connections, now more than ever.