Lucy Says Happy New Year and Resolves to Fear Less

 

Did you hear that? I think it was a firecracker, which seems to be shorthand for the most terrifying thing happening in the sky that is larger than all of us and will probably consume the world so that it's our own blood that shimmers across the horizon in nightmare arcs of red and more red yet.

I see why they made a shorthand for it, haha.

But seriously, folks, it's 2013, and I, Lucy, am here to wish you well. I wish you wellness, I wish you health, I wish you safety.

Safety from every scary thing like mail/maulmen and murderous delivery folk, dogs with teeth sharper than your own, loud noises, very loud noises, very very loud noises, thunder and lightning, debris falling from outer space and flattening you on the sidewalk, thorns in your feet, unexpected noises, expected noises that don't go as planned (like a burp you thought would be maybe subtle, but is in fact resounding), broken bottles in the street, cars driving by your window, unsavory characters walking or rollerblading or biking or skateboarding by your window, dogs off leash, very tall people, mayhem in the streets, etc.

There are so many things to be afraid of. So many things to guard against! And here I am and it's 2013 and still I'm listing them, going over their every detail, the fear not just imaginary but cerebral, imbedded in my cortex.

It's funny but I think the thing I ought most fear is not, as FDR famously said, fear itself, but rather it's myself I think I fear truly.

Who I am. What I want. 

I look around and imagine myself invisible, safe, but there is no real safety in invisibility, is there? There is only falsity - the faux-dog who fake-licks your face. Who fake-barks because she is fake(?)-afraid to be herself.

That is, I am afraid of myself truly. What if you don't like the real me?

What if you reject me? The letter the mail/maulmen brings a letter of final notice, of get-the-hell-out; the thunder and the lightning seeking me, Lucy, me out of all the creatures in the world to crush and to grind to bits; loud noises actually a harbinger of death; or loud noises actually death itself, not stealthy or skulking but stomping towards me, Texas Chainsaw Massacreesque. Really it sounds ridiculous when I say it this way.

Funny how feelings and logic don't always align. Often don't.

And yet there is a knock at the door and everything inside me turns to ice. How difficult to not react in terror. How difficult to just even picture myself sitting here, quiet, letting it alone.

Well, have you guessed it? What this is, I mean, and what my New Year's resolution is? 

I want to be less nervous. Less scared, less attached, less worried, less over-thinking, and more resolute, more loving, more compassionate, more trusting, more able to listen, more patient.

To take a moment before responding to breathe and consider my options. To maybe sometimes choose to be still instead of reacting. I want to remember there is no difference between my head and my heart and my body. I want to be genuine. 

It's been such an amazing year with my Slippy and I have much (much, much, muchly, much) to be grateful for. This fear cannot rule me. It can't - in each thought, in every action I banish the tyrant Lucy who doesn't trust herself and invite in the Lucy who does; who is willing to wait. Who will stay.

The Lucy who would hold a potato chip on her nose without whining. That's the dog I want to be this year.

Well, that and a more potato-chip-eating-dog in general.