4 min read

i am a human; i fear...

Dear reader, I am a human. I hope that you are one too. You know, how in this age of technology one can never be sure who or what is reading (or crawling through) one’s words.

If you were to read my last sentence again, it would occur to you as an introduction to one of my fears – compromising my privacy. Yes, I am anxious that, thanks to the nerdy algos running under the hood of my browser, some tech giant will be able to see what I am typing about and as a result I will soon start seeing ads about fighting ones fears and anxiety. In turn, my mind will conspire with this horror and turn it into a gigantic cloud to cover up the original idea with which I set out to pen this piece. Sounds quite rational. No? No. There is a fair chance that I might never see such ads. But the chances of this notion hurting my mind’s focus on the present are considerably high.

Such is the nature of our being, my friend. In an assumed onslaught of possible future outcomes, we perversely sacrifice the very reality of the current. Only problem being that it, in no way, is a holy sacrifice. We just lose what we have right now to prevent ourselves from what might never come our way. Such losers, we adults are. Children, on the contrary are so much better at living.

Living like a child, seriously?

Let’s see it this way. We often find ourselves going gaga over a child’s ability of quick learning or how quickly they become best friends with the pets. It is adorable. More courageous, if you ask me. Well, they owe this almost entirely to their lack of acquaintance with the big bad bully – Fear. Their cute little baby brains are not developed enough to hold their steps from going towards the pool, or to stop their hands when they are reaching out to hold the candle’s flame, or to keep them from pulling the cat’s tail, and this list of or-s can go on and on… You get the point, I am sure. Children are stupid!

Are they? Children live the moment. They never compromise the real-time experience in fright of something bad, which might never come to pass anyways. How does this help? Well, learning to swim is so much fun and easy for them; they just never entertain the idea of drowning and live the experience to its fullest. They learn that a flame can hurt so one has to be careful, not fearful. Cats are playful but they don’t like when their tails are pulled; that there are other ways to play with cats.

The stupid child learns all these lessons without any shade of terror or anxiety. Imagine for a moment how positive and strong the child’s attitude be towards water, fire, and animals with such learning. What is your opinion about fire, water and animals? Do you think it could’ve been different had you been given a chance to explore these elements on your own (under supervision, of course), instead of being simply cordoned off every time you were in the vicinity of any of these?

“But we are sane adults now,” you say. Yes, my dear reader, that we sadly are.

Is sane better?

Being sensible adults, we should seize trying out new experiences, stop exploring new ways to broaden our exposure, give up growing out of our comfort zones, avoid any attempts of improving our relationships and just lead a conformist life with all our expressions held close within ourselves? Does this occur to you as the correct definition of being a sane adult? To me it definitely does not.

A foolish child’s innocent laugh, even in the most dreadful of moments, draws a smile on her mother’s lips. That fleeting smile is the mother’s escape from her dark assumptions. Her mind stops thinking about what may (or may not) come next as it pulls itself together in the present. The otherwise just-a-sensible-illusion-of-life mother truly comes to life in that short smiling moment and most probably, thanks to the newly found ray of positivity in her mind, she also ends up figuring out a remedy to the serious circumstance that she is faced with.

Life is the name of a sturdy archaic beast. It either engulfs you, sucking you dry with every passing day, or it makes an acquaintance of you, letting you ruffle its mane every now and then in a curious manner. All it asks of you to be able to do the latter is that approach it in a curious, optimist gait. After all, Isn’t that how you would like to be approached by your lover too?

Wow, congrats, you’ve figured it all out!

No, my dear friend, I have not figured out anything. I too, am confused and mostly afraid of what might happen tomorrow if I did something today.

I feared opening up to you with my writing. I thought it will provide you with a window to my flawed, vulnerable self and you will stop paying any heed to me. Maybe you already are judging me right now as you read. That is, however, just one side of the canvas. There is an equal chance of the opposite happening. What if you relate with my vulnerability and find some kind of solace in my words? In this moment, it is my prerogative to pick up a side to believe in. Should I stop writing and succumb to this panic attack or continue thinking that I am not only helping myself by expressing but also the reader by sharing? Yes, you guessed it. I chose to write – against my apprehensions, towards hope.

I think, I overthink, and I get anxious but from this moment on I’ll pick the side of hope in everything. I will focus and live in the moment. My doors to the dark clouds of unforeseen, are shut. I am a human; I choose to see the light.

You have to make the same choice too – in writing, singing, dancing, trying out that new idea, reaching out for your love, in everything. Regardless of how you end up tomorrow, whether you have it all figured out or not, you have to focus in the now. You, right now, is who you really are. This moment is the most real thing you have – Live it!

That’s all for my rant on fear. To lighten things up a little, here is what Will Smith has to say:

Happy living!