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What We Fear phobia: an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation There have been countless works of fiction written about a post-apocalyptic future where all that we know has been destroyed by some holocaust or other. We seem obsessed with the idea of preventing it, or at least being prepared for it, as though such an event were inevitable or that we could actually anticipate accurately and be fully prepared. Even though we are fearful of the prospect, we are ever so curious about how it might happen and how the remnants would live afterward. I believe this is a rather big clue that we have been here before. We already know this scene, but our memory of it has been shuffled to a dark corner in an old closet. While this may shield us from the distraction of all the questions we might have of when and how, we are still left with a resident fear. Like many phobias, the psychophysical manifestation is evident, but the root cause is often terribly obscure. In an effort to disable the fear response, one must dig to find the source, and unfortunately the closer we get to it, the more frightening it becomes. However, we can never be truly healed of it until we meet it face to face, for the irony is that it's not the original catalyst which is truly fearsome, but simply how we react to it. We fear the whole concept of a lost civilization, despite our insatiable curiosity about it. Such is the paradox of phobia. In this case, we fear extinction. We have evidence that giant reptiles and great mammals once ruled this Earth then disappeared. We secretly fear this will happen to us too. We have buried the memory of this very thing happening to us before and it twists into fear of being lost forever. If we will only allow the memories to return, we will ultimately be reassured. We have forgotten an important truth about the great reptiles being decimated, reportedly after a gargantuan meteor strike: All reptiles were not destroyed. Many varieties survived, continued to evolve, and grew again in numbers, if not size. Their environment had changed radically and they adapted. So did other fauna and flora, and the Earth herself. Now that's great for the collective group, for the greater good, but what about individuals?  Well, does the salamander consider what would happen if his puddle dried up? Perhaps. Does he wonder what would happen if all puddles dried up? Not as likely. Does he waste his life scurrying in fear of losing his puddle? I think not. He eats, he sleeps, he mates, he wades... he lives. If his puddle dries up, then he will find another or maybe he will transform from his salamander life into whatever is next. In other words, he will die, but he doesn't spend his life worrying about that.
Change. Whether it's the coming and going of small puddles or massive shifts across the surface of the planet --- Change is everpresent. What happened to the dinosaurs and what happened to Atlantis, has happened many times upon the Earth, elsewhere in our Solar System, and throughout the Universe, in countless ways. Nothing ceases, it merely changes. We do not perish, we transform. The Universe is an eternal infinity of perpetual change. And as smart as we think we are, we seem to fight this fact. Most of us actually fear change itself and worry uselessly over unknown futures instead of making the best of what we have while we have it. What about our extinction? There is no such thing. We are here, now, after countless devastations we don't even recall. We are here, now, again. We are on the verge of creating the utopian existence for which we yearn, and yet already we fear losing it. We live daily in fear of losing what we have now, moreso in what we dream for the future. We must throw away the fear because we have done this before, and we're back. We built our utopia and it disassembled. We've been creating it again, albeit quite changed. Even if many of us do not believe in Atlantis or that we are the descendants of survivors, we still must learn this: We clip our own wings with fear. Whatever we might desire to do, we will not do it if we succumb to fear, and that is failure. There is no failure in making an attempt, no matter how it turns out. There is no failure in working toward a goal, whether we reach it or not. There is only failure in letting fear rule us. In fact, fear of failure is the very epitome of irony; it is its own fulfillment. 
Consider the spider, a master weaver whose fine work can be demolished in seconds and often is. A single raindrop can undo a whole day's work. But the spider weaves again and again. Her web is her home, her method of sustenance, and her work of art. She knows it is fleeting and fragile, and still she weaves from her whole being.
Imagine how our world might be if we all did that, if we all proceeded from our full selves, without fear of loss or being lost. If we could but remember Atlantis as our own past, then we would know there are no real endings, simply new beginnings, and in truth, every moment is a brand new beginning. From wherever we have been to wherever we're going, the crossroad is Here and the journey begins Now, always. Next in Sequence Select From Menu |
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 uicksilver
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