There are always moments that you remember in life, and then there are moments that purely stick out in your mind. And it always seems to be the smallest, most minute detail. Like remembering a field of roses but distinctly remembering the one, single, thriving thorn on a half wilted flower. In my yesteryears of high school, serving as a yearbook editor, I was arranging senior ads when I spotted one that read, "Always remember, be God-fearing."
I have always been a proponent of being God-loving, and not God-fearing. I still ponder that ad from time to time, wondering why it is that someone would choose to value a religion with values of fear instead of values of love. And I honestly believe that religion would not seem so fanatical if the fishermen of the world drive forth more messages of celestial love instead of doomed fates and raptures. I have conscientiously chosen to abide by a rule to love life and not fear it, to live with mistakes and make them happily, for where you fault in one aspect of your life you make up another time.
It was not until this year that I think I truly have understood how possible God, life, everything, can be both feared and loved, and how fear can be selected first. I recently was appointed as the new program chair for the New York chapter of a very large and successful global charity. I never know why I am compelled to serve in leadership roles for things I know very little about, but I defer to the thrill and the challenge as a probable reason. As Empire of the Sun has so poignantly put it, we are always running for the thrill of it, always searching for the thrill of it. Oh, my life mantra.
Our charity is global but our efforts are local. Upcoming events include a huge gala benefit and a Namaste, India global yoga day to help fundraise for children's education programs around the world. And yesterday I was faced with the daunting task of trying to figure out how many t-shirts to bulk order for an event not yet planned, with a body count not yet known, and a marketing plan not yet created. I felt lost and panicky, guilt-ridden with fear that perhaps someone would sniff out the fake in me and realize that I have no idea what I'm doing. But I made one suggestion and was congratulated for "big thinking", and I patted myself on the back for taking one step at a time. Any movement is movement, any input is gold.
I have also been taking pole classes for the past 2.5 years and recently have begun to master upside down leg switches, marleys, butterflies and the like that I've been hammering after for months now, the like that could cause me to throttle to the ground and break my neck if I'm not careful. As I reach another level every week and push my abilities, I always tip a mental hat to my past self circa 2009 when I picked up the phone and called the studio to sign up. A phase of emotional hard time, a simple flicker of willpower, and a flash of fear has culminated in being able to celebrate my anniversary of being on the pole year after year, day after day. The pole in my room is hardly a sexual nod, it is a souvenir of overcoming human nervousness and in celebration of being female and strong enough to hold myself up--both physically and emotionally.
I savor fear now, because I realize how far it has gotten me. And in the spirit of Easter and Good Friday, I'm understanding that to be God-fearing is just as fine as being God-loving, for the fear is not meant to indicate God's wrath, but fear of the unknown. Fear of where God may lead us in the times we need him the most, fear of where to turn for the next three days when God leaves us until rising again on Easter Sunday, fear of how to actually be the success and the leader we claim to be, fear of how to be responsible. But all of that fear drives a thrill that turns into love, turns into passion, turns into something so incredibly productive that you might just remember these moments in your life. And if you're lucky they'll stick out forever because of that one simple detail that you decided to act upon.
