“He who is not every day conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.”    
 - Ralph Waldo Emerson  

We all of us live with fear inside. But what is it that we are really afraid of? This is the story of a woman who seeks an answer to that gnarly question.

Jessica’s Fear
Jessica ran up the stairs of the Unity Church she attended on an irregular basis, hoping to be on time for her meditation group. Entering the heavy, double doors she went directly down the hall and into a small conference room they used for their group. Jessica was delighted to see that the folding chair next to Maeve, who led the group, was empty. She made a bee-line to the chair and sat down on Maeve’s left. Maeve was chatting with the woman on her other side, but turned to Jessica and gave her a quick, welcoming hug.

Maeve was a kind, caring woman, with tremendous will and self-discipline. Tall, confident and always impeccably dressed, she favored silk scarves in hues of deep blue and purple. Maeve had the ability to communicate with those who had died, as well as with spiritual guides and masters, and would often give messages from the other side to individuals and to groups.

Jessica smiled and hugged her back, then found herself unaccountably tongue-tied. She wanted to say something friendly and fun, but all she could do was smile at Maeve, a mute smiley face. Maeve waited a beat, lips curved expectantly, and then turned back to ask the woman on her other side a question.

Jessica closed her eyes and felt a knot in her stomach. Why was she so fearful and needy around this woman?  She felt like a fawning puppy when she was around Maeve, wanting to please her, sit with her, soak up her energetic emanations, wanting her attention. Then, when she had it, she didn’t know what to do with it. She was pathetic.

Maeve picked up a small bell from the floor beside her and shook it energetically. The tinkling ring quieted the room and she looked at each person in turn around the circle, a gracious smile on her face.

“Welcome everyone. I hope you have all had a chance to practice this week?” She looked around the room expectantly. A few heads nodded enthusiastically, Jessica’s included.

“We’ll be doing a guided meditation this evening.” She turned to the table behind her and switched on a soothing CD of nature sounds and delicate piano. “Please sit up straight, feet flat on the floor and close your eyes. Allow your attention to come fully into this present moment.”

Jessica heaved a sigh of relief, letting the negative thoughts of a moment ago drain away. She focused within and allowed herself to drift.

“Leave behind the events of the day and focus upon your heart chakra, that space in the center of your chest. Breathe deeply into that space and see white light entering and filling your body through your heart,” said Maeve.

Jessica saw the light. She was good at visualizing. It entered and filled her body, feeling cool and expansive. She breathed it in and out, in and out. She felt as though she was floating.

Maeve took them on an imaginary journey to a beautiful sanctuary at the top of a mountain. Jessica could see it all and felt herself climbing the mountain and entering a white domed structure. Standing inside she looked around and saw massive stone columns circling the inside, holding up a domed roof over the rocky promontory. White doves flew in and out through the columns, the whirring of their wings the only sound. Jessica had stopped hearing Maeve’s voice. She looked to see a white stone bench in the center of the structure, heavy and beautifully carved. Jessica walked to it and sat down, breathing deeply of the fresh, mountain air wafting in through the open sides of the structure. 

She heard Maeve’s voice as if from far away. “Ask your guide whatever question you would like answered.”

Jessica was disappointed, she was all alone. There was no guide here. Still, she could feel a warm breeze blowing gently through the columns, and hear the doves cooing from where they had settled under the roof. In this beautiful place what questions could she have? Then her mind trailed back to the painful experience at the beginning of the meditation group.

Why am I so afraid of someone I admire? Why do I feel so needy, like a puppy wanting a pat? It’s humiliating.

The thought came, a droplet spilling into her mind, ‘Why am I so afraid of who I am?’

Not sure what that means, she thought. She looked at the ground, scuffing her foot in the rocky soil she found there.

Jessica knew she worried about what others thought of her, whether they liked or approved of her. She was afraid of not fitting in, not being included. She was afraid of not being good enough, not pretty enough, not clever enough, not slender enough, not confident enough, not spiritual enough. Perversely, she was afraid of looking too good, getting too dressed up, looking too confident, speaking up too much, or being too smart. Jessica was afraid of being fully herself for fear of what others might think, and she was getting tired of it.

 I get all that, but why am I so intimidated by Maeve? What is my problem?

Again, a thought droplet, ‘What do I see when I look at her?’

She’s an amazing woman, thought Jessica. She lives the way I want to live, connected with Spirit, feeling guided, confident in her oneness with God, serving the world. She is a master.

The droplet expanded, ‘I can only recognize an energy outside of me that is already within me.’

Why would I be so afraid of something that is already inside me? As she contemplated this question, Jessica heard Maeve’s voice.

“Thank your guide and come back down the mountain.” Jessica heard the sound of the piano interspersed with bird calls and bubbling brook. “Return to your body here in this room. Gently flex your feet and hands. When you are ready you may open your eyes.” Maeve’s soothing voice brought her attention back to the meditation room.
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Jessica felt herself in her chair and opened her eyes. She turned her head to look at Maeve sitting next to her.
What is it I’m really afraid of here? She wondered. Is it me?   

Sharing our stories is a theme here on Soul Doors, and inspired by Jennifer Louden’s fable (posted in Be of Service), I’ll share a magical story of a little girl who believed she wasn’t enough.  I hope you enjoy this little bird.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was a friendly, outgoing child. She wasn’t a princess. She didn’t have magic. She didn't feel like anything special. She was just a little girl.

She was the youngest in her family and had a big brother who was always faster, stronger, smarter, more confident. Everyone liked him best. And she was OK with that because she liked him best too.

The little girl, now not so little, was taller and heavier than the other girls in her class at school. She didn’t get good grades. She wasn’t particularly good at sports.  It seemed like the other kids did better than her at most everything, and she still didn't have any magic.

The girl grew to believe in not being as good as everyone else and each time she had that thought her heart faltered a little and shrank with pain.

Finally, it was just too hard to be around other people and the girl, now a young woman hid her heart away in the pages of her journal.
There she would pour out all the longings and pain of a young woman. She would berate herself for not being good enough, not strong enough, not pretty enough, not clever enough, not confident enough. Then after the chastisement had run its course, the words would change, and there’d be support, compassion and caring. There’d be loving ideas and insights, and she’d always feel better afterward.

She'd always feel better.

Maybe there is magic in me, she thought. Maybe the magic comes from deep inside, like dipping a bucket into a well and raising it up full of clear, cold water sparkling in the sun.

So the young woman wrote, and she wrote. Sometimes she would be able to send her bucket down deep and bring it up brimming with that loving and compassionate magic. Sometimes the words just got jumbled up and floated about on the surface. But she kept at it for years.

Her writings piled up on the floor all around her, and the young woman grew old.

The old woman longed to send her writings out into the world. She longed to see the tiny birds of her words flying free. Yet as she pushed her fledglings from the edge of the nest, she heard the voice of that little girl that she had been.

Her little girl asked a question, “You remember you’re not good enough don’t you?”

The old woman remembered, somewhere along the way she had forgotten. How could she have forgotten?

She called her tiny birds home again, gathering them close. She pulled her piles of writings around her. She huddled within and felt safe and sad.

Her birds didn’t want to stay close and stay safe. They flew to the window and pecked to get out. The old woman felt her heart shrinking, but did not release them.

The old woman poured out her sadness in writing. What else could she do? She wrote and she wrote. The magic welled up from within her and spilled out onto the pages, becoming more and more tiny birds.

They flit about the room, filling the air with their drumming wing beats. They flew to the window looking for a way to get out, beating their iridescent wings against the glass.

There were so many now that the old woman was afraid they would come to harm. Yet, she knew there would be no safety for them outside. There were too many birds out there, bigger, stronger, faster, better. How could her little birds survive?

Perhaps they wouldn’t, she thought. But this is no life for them, trapped in a room with an old woman.

She walked to the window and threw it open wide. Her birds flowed outward, a miracle of shining wings. She saw them dance in the air with delight, rising and dipping, then zipping off in all directions.

She felt her heart expand as she breathed deeply of the fresh air. Joyful tears dripped into the creases of the old woman’s cheeks as she watched her birds fly free.  

Sighing and smiling, the old woman left the window wide open and sat down to write once again.

©Holly Hildreth 2019
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