Tag: fear

Staying Afloat

Lucy Moore

I found this picture and it struck a chord. I am stand-up paddling far off the Kona Coast in Hawaii in the early 2000s.  It was a calming, meditative experience and I always felt transported – as I was in fact! – to a different world, where all I heard was the rhythmic slap of waves under the board and all I saw was a gray blue, sometimes sparkling, expanse all the way to the horizon. I took to SUP immediately, rarely falling, riding the undulating surface, bent knees, ready to absorb whatever peaks and valleys lay ahead. I loved it and whenever we visited the Big Island, we went out – me on the board, Roberto in a kayak.  

It was dangerous, given the life teeming below me that could have upset me at best and eaten me at worst. Dolphins are a favorite food of sharks, and apparently a paddle board seen from below, silhouetted against the sky, looks just like a dolphin, if you are a shark. I am a cautious person in unfamiliar settings, and I can’t imagine now what drove, or lured, me out there. Maybe the simplicity, the isolation, being alone, a tiny speck in the immense, awesome ocean. I had faith – in what I can’t say — that I would survive, and if not it would have been worth it.

It is now 2026, well into the second year of an egomaniacal dictator’s second term as US president. I don’t know what will become of this country. Huge damage has been done already, and authoritarianism is a reality. I am fighting as best I can, protesting, writing, organizing, supporting youth-run initiatives, and sending money in many directions.

Fear and hopelessness are the administration’s most deadly weapons.

I refuse to go there. Yes, there are life-threatening monsters swimming in my waters, ready to capsize me, take a bite out of me. But I can rise above, grip the board with my toes, bend my knees to ride the next wave, breathe deep and focus on the horizon. There is beauty, calm, and strength to be found if we rise above the chaos and panic. And if we look around at others — on paddle boards or rafts, in kayaks or rowboats, or whatever you need to keep yourself afloat – the view is fantastic! There is an ocean of community, an ocean full of hope. Sure, you will tumble into the fear, sink below into the darkness. But if you can scramble up to the surface, there will likely be a hand to help you climb back onto your board.

 Read More

Look at the Horizon

Lucy Moore

I was confiding in my 14 year-old grandson recently about my fear of snakes. He lives far away and we were on zoom. I told him that during the summer and early fall snakes are slithering through the tall grass, lounging on warm rocks, and generally waiting to terrify me. This means that my usual refreshing, invigorating walks become terrifying treks. With my eyes riveted on the ground in front of me, I told him, I miss the gorgeous views, mountains in the distance, a sky full of huge cloud pillows, the bright yellow chamisa bushes ahead, the ravens wheeling above me. There were alternative routes, I explained, on dusty dirt roads, but this was my favorite one and I hated to give it up, but those snakes…

Chamisa and Apache Plume, on my walk this morning…

He agreed this was a sad state of affairs, which was pretty generous for a young teen in the throes of adolescence. And he had some advice: “Just go on the walk, the one you like, through the grass, with the views and the ravens and everything, but don’t look down. Keep your eyes on the horizon and just keep walking. If you’re not looking for them all the time, you won’t think about them, and you can enjoy yourself.”

I pointed out that I imagined I would worry about stepping on one, and that if I did I would surely have a heart attack and die and the snake would bite me for good measure and…. but he had returned to his digital device.

…in the arroyo near our house…

It’s an interesting and tempting recipe for living, and maybe one I should cook up now and then. Those things that haunt me, scare me, anger or sadden me, those things I have zero control over – why not just look elsewhere? Why not find a more pleasing, nourishing view? If I take my eyes off the path, littered with domestic chaos and global crisis, if I breathe deep and look out at the horizon, maybe all that distress won’t be there.

… a Datura, or Moonflower…

Of course I know better, and so does my grandson. We both know the snake may actually be basking across the sunny path, and that I may even step on it and stumble. We both know that the sadness and suffering are still there in the world, and that I may open the morning paper and be confronted with another horror, maybe this time it’s people clinging to a jetliner in Afghanistan. But he knows a balance is what his grandma needs. He knows she will still worry about the snake, but if she can choose, even for a few steps, to take in a different view, she will be happier and healthier.

He’s a smart boy.

…and I crossed paths with this migrating Tarantula, of whom I have no fear. I was enjoying the horizon — and the sandy arroyo floor. You can do both!!

Read More