Fear is a strange thing in my head.

Fear is a strange thing in my head.

Quiet, secluded moments like the one captured here give me space not to escape fear, but to notice it. To step away from the part of my brain that seems determined to collect fear like a hoarder collects junk.

We humans all carry this unavoidable, sometimes perverse focus on fear. Sometimes I avoid it. Sometimes I get angry because of it. Sometimes I try to tuck it away where I don’t have to look at it. We all develop our own methods.

The internet is saturated with stories of fear on display. Scroll long enough, and you’ll see it everywhere. In social media posts, in videos, in advertising. Fear rarely announces itself plainly. It dresses up as certainty, outrage, righteousness, or control. I often turn posts upside down in my head and read them from the inside. What is this person afraid of? Sometimes I wonder what my own posts reveal about me. You’re welcome to analyze them. Or you can just ask. I’ll usually tell you.

What I’ve learned, imperfectly and over time, is that fear doesn’t disappear when it’s avoided or attacked. It grows quieter only when it’s examined. When I notice myself pulling away, getting defensive, or trying to hide something, that’s my cue. I slow down. I think harder. I work at it. Almost always, I need help. I rarely do it alone. Sometimes the people helping me have no idea they’re doing it. They’re accomplices, without knowing it.

Every so often, old fears replay themselves in my mind. Not as lessons. More like echoes. I don’t enjoy those moments. After all, they are fears. But they remind me of something I once needed to learn: fear reveals itself whether we want it to or not. The question isn’t whether it shows up. It always does. What is important is how we respond when it does.  

Places like this sunrise help me remember and help me continue to be comfortable in fear's company.