Fear as teacher

I fear it in my fingers, I fear it in my back. The fear that’s all around me that makes me wanna crack - apart. In two.

Not the right time to be born into — too much pain for my spine. Wrong energy. Sorry, wrong time.

I start running.

Fear is such a pain in the ass. Makes me run, even if I am not moving.

I run.

And I run each morning when I wake up - in the morning light, fear is already next to me, no, in me. Me.

I run.

I stop running. Fear catches up again.

I run, again.

I stop running. Caught.

I run.

“Stop running.” Now I start to understand, that now — in the now — is the right time.

My back starts to relax. But why?

Why now? Why not yesterday — when all my fear is so close to me?

Fear, why now? Why do you tell me to stop? Where is all the pain — gone? Taken from me? Did you suck it out of my bones? Fear. Show me your teeth. Show me my shadows. And let me dive into the darkness of your gorge. Down to the belly where life is. Our primordial soup simmering gently for billions of times.

Why did you teach me to walk?

What is fear teaching you?