That was the question the Woman in the Woods (WW) asked me. When she says, though, it sounds like, “What are you afraid of, Sweetharrt,” with her cute, south Georgia accent. And she meant the big Afraid. Not the tiny afraid like, I’m worried I will go out without my pants on (which is just a matter of time). I hate pants; I feel strongly they are a communist plot. WW was talking about the AFRAID that gives me migraines turns my stomach into a knot and eventually brings out depressed Leana. Boooo, she’s boring.
The Woman in the Woods is my life coach. I have written about her in blogs gone by. She is the free-spirited, wise woman who runs a retreat sanctuary on a farm in North Georgia.
If you don’t have a spiritual mentor, like my Woman in the Woods WW, Maybe, you have a
Priest on a Porch
Or a Lady in a Lighthouse,
Or a Friend in the Ferns. Although, she looks like she smokes the ferns.
Someone you can go to to help you find your answers. If you don’t, I encourage you to begin petitioning the universe or praying for a spiritual mentor. It’s a beautiful thing.
Back to the question of what I was terrified of in life. I was reclined on a comfy couch in WW’s open-air barn. It was a hot Georgia summer day, but we were comfortable under the shade of the barn’s metal roof, with the fans lazily twirling. The ethereal music played gently, and we were surrounded by stacks of books and craft materials. Bliss.
I was talking about concerns weighing on me, when she leaned forward and asked me that shattering question, ‘What are you AFRAID of sweetharrt?
It caught me midbreath and stilled me. I don’t think anyone has ever really looked in my eyes and asked that. It was a question my heart had been longing to hear because I felt my body soften in relief.
My deep fears poured out of me. Some of it surprised me.
I’m not telling you what I said. That’s between me, the Woman in the woods, and God. Well, CJ, the goat, heard what I was saying on his way to get a drink from the toilet.
C.J. is an Angora goat
The chickens pecking around also heard my innermost thoughts, and Lord knows they have blabbermouths, but everyone also knows they are batshit-crazy, so they can squawk all they want.
The only credible source on the farm is (WW)’s horse, Worthy, and horses are angels in disguise and would never engage in something as human as tawdry as gossip. She has heard it all at the farm.
Anyway, my answer isn’t the point. We are all full of fear, and some of it will come true. The point of this ramble is that we need to ask and answer this question. We don’t have to have answers.
To speak my darkest fears out loud to another human and feel complete acceptance and support was profound. It felt like a sacred exchange.
My Dibbuns, (explanation for word post-July 2019) I wish I could sit down with you. Let’s set the scene, a cozy spot, the perfect snacky you enjoy, a cocktail or beverage of choice, throw blankets, and comfy chairs. Yoga Girl station on Spotify plays softly in the background, or maybe classical, or country love songs if we must. I would look you in the eyes, your physical boundaries allowing I might hold your hand. Then I will say, “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?” It won’t sound nearly as cute as when the Woman in the Woods asks, but I will listen with compassion. It is well documented I am long on compassion and short on common sense.
I felt free as I drove home, windows down, drinking in the beauty of the green hills of Georgia. Nothing had really changed. Many of my deep fears will come true, but I recommitted to living in the moment and finding joy.
It reminded me of when Kyle was little. Kyle liked a Winnie the Pooh movie called the Blustery Day, but when the Woozles came on, he was always upset and scared. He would come to me and bury his sweet little head of blond curls into my chest, clinging to me, and say, “Mummy, I am afrearied of the Woozles.” Every time I would hold him tell him it’s ok, mummy is here, and ask if he wanted me to turn off the show. He always said no and went right back to watching the show. The Woozles were still there, but he had spoken his truth and received love and reassurance; the Woozles weren’t so scary anymore.
So, what are you afraid of, sweetheart?
Find someone safe and tell them your real fears. If you can’t find someone, tell me. I’m no horse, but I can keep my mouth shut.
Make Peace with your Woozles
Love, Auntie Lee-Lee