The Greatest Fear

There's that quote that's thrown around all the time.

Something about how what we fear most in not failure, but, in fact, our own majestic, glowing potential to do good and be good and vanquish our own weaknesses.

And yes, perhaps that is valid for some people. Maybe one of you harbors a deep-rooted terror of your own excellence. If that is your cross to bear, your own brand of hamartia, then it is real to you. I'm not trying to discount that.

But for me, my shining potential is a million miles away from my greatest fear. More pressing fears include spiders (and any possible spider mutations allowing them to fly), tight, crowded, and/or loud spaces, enduring a Russian prison sentence, accidentally joining a gang, the candiru and the myths surrounding it, getting lost in a city at night, sharks, riptides, people who lurk, any situation that would cause me to be portrayed as a victim on an episode of Law & Order: SVU (which is a great show, but also kind of terrifying), and having to repeat high school.* 

In the grand scheme of things, I think fear of greatness falls somewhere between my fear of choking on a mini-marshmallow while drinking hot cocoa and contracting rabies from a rabbit bite. 

So, no, not a big fear of mine. 

My biggest fears are the stuff of cliches, yet I wonder sometimes if things become cliche and over-used and mocked because they're actually essential human truths that we're too scared to admit plague us because they're embarrassing. Because they reveal too much of our gooey centers and put dents in our glossy, scared-of-our-own-perfection topcoats. 

Isn't everyone scared of being alone? Scared of turning out to be tragically insignificant? Scared of losing what they have?

Hasn't everyone, at some point, laid in bed contemplating how small they are and how infinite the universe is and how totally unfathomably minuscule they are in the grand scheme of things?

Regardless of religion or level of devoutness, we all, at some point, allow ourselves to wonder what happens when we die. What if, by some tragic turn of events, this really is all there is and death is really the end? What if we all end, with the crisp finality of a lobbed-off ponytail, and end up 6-feet-under with no way out?

These are the fears of madmen and heretics, the fears of kings and soliders... the fears of the human condition.

We want to matter. We want to be relevant. We want to be unforgettable. We want, we want, we want. We spend our lives, from our first breath to our last, wanting.

My greatest fear, I suppose, is that no one will be willing to look up from their wanting long enough to see me, really see me, and say, "I see you. I need you. And you're enough."

And I guess I'm also scared that I'll be too consumed in my own wanting to do that to someone else.

I do not fear my potential to be great. I fear my potential to love and be loved. We all do.

So we face that fear everyday.

We learn to look past wants as we decide to see others as we so desperately need to be seen. We love, not because it is easy, gentle, or painless, but because it is something we need. We love because we know the glittering paradoxes of the human condition and know that acceptance is the one thing that cause ease the nausea when the glitter goes to our heads. We love because we are human and because we know we must face our fears.

We love because we are scared, but also because it is the one thing that seems to make us feel safe.

We love, we love, we love. 

*You will note that Zombie Apocalypses are not among my most pressing fears. This is because I have mad Plants vs. Zombies skills, know how to shoot a gun, and can actually run pretty fast when properly motivated.