You Don't Have to Conquer Every Fear You Have.

Some sage advice from my mother.

There is something about hearing wisdom in my own mother’s voice that makes it land differently. Maybe my genes perk up, and my body and listening Self recognize the lineage and tune in better. Perhaps she too, is channeling some historical wisdom from our ancestors.

“Can I ask your advice on what I should do?” is a common request I make. And, I am always met with “Of course” or sometimes, “Of course, you know I like to give my opinion!”

I called recently with this same request and shared that there were multiple “invitations” on the horizon and I wasn’t sure which ones I should pursue. I told her about a group of professionals I wanted to join, for a several-month commitment, working on the alignment of our work with our Truest Self. I told her about Reiki 3 training, which I know I want to continue with next year. And then, I told her about the death doula training that had entered my inbox just that morning.

I carefully shared about my emotional attachment to each of the offerings, and the ways I thought they would make me “better.” I told her about how I think the group will be good nourishment for me, and how I know in my soul that continuing with Reiki is right. And then I said proudly “And the death doula training I think I should do because I know grief, I know how to work with it, but I am afraid of working with dying still. And because I’m afraid, I think I should do it.”

She listened well, like she always does, as I shared. Then she said, “Jesie, you do have a tendency to overdo it, to get too busy, to burn out, and then to regret it.” She has said some form of this phrase about every 6-9 months since I was about 17 years old. She is like my soul thermometer to my own overwhelm. She reminds me, gently, when the heat is getting too high. I acknowledged the wisdom in her reminder, and pleaded just a little further with reality, saying “I mean, I feel like I should face what I’m afraid of…” She asserted, snipping the end of my sentence compassionately:

“You don’t have to conquer every fear you have.”

My eyes welled, my skin prickled in little goosebumps, and I was silent. I call these moments with her “breath-takers.” She says something, offers some truth that is so deeply true that it hadn’t even crossed my mind, but somehow falls into the tiniest keyhole of my heart, fitting perfectly. I sighed in relief, my shoulders dropped, and I sank into this knowing. I grabbed for a pen and sticky note, writing her words down, careful to ensure I didn’t miss a single one. “It’s okay to fear things. You do good work with your clients, and this could enhance your work, but you don’t have to expose yourself to things simply because you fear them.” She went on to describe how I’d know when it was time to do each one and offered me a fourth invitation to prioritize myself and my rest. She has always been the embodiment of that invitation in my life.

What I love most about this, is that my mom never asked how much each invitation costs, when they would meet, whether it was in person or virtual, or whether they’d be tax write-offs. All good questions, but logistical ones. And the logistics were all things I could surmount on my own.

This was a soul dilemma, requiring soul insight to untangle the soul knots.

I shared the same phrase with a client later that day, and they too had the same visceral reaction of gratitude to this truth. I said, “My mom said that to me earlier today, so I’m just paying it forward.”

As I move forward, I know now that the invitations that are right for me, right now, will be clear. And, I know now too, that any invitation that is truly mine, will present and re-present itself until I am ready and the “yes” feels really right, deep down.

I think there’s more to be said about how we relate to fear. And maybe that's something I’ll write more about another time. But for now, I am chewing on the idea of letting fear exist, with my eyes open, fully conscious, fully awake. Allowing myself to walk gently forward, not to conquer, but to feel.