I remember the first time I felt absolute fear. It was past midnight, along an old country road – the icy grip of winter latched mercilessly through to my bones. I was just 25 years old, at the time – but already I’d felt bold enough to take on this world alone.

It was supposed to have been a weekend trip; there and back, just long enough to enjoy the blue-tinted frozen ice caps. But, as luck would have it – the car sputtered to a halt, the below zero temperatures having seized the engine.

I sat for awhile hopeful another might pass. Though as the hour passed, I began to fear for my own survival. Against all sensibility, I left the car – confident I could make my way alone.

Within a few moments, my legs were exhausted. As my lungs stretched and ached against the icy winds, I began to cry. I’d felt fear before, but the thought of never seeing my family again absolutely terrified me.

“In silence we discover ourselves,” Gunilla Norris writes, “When we are present, deeply attentive, we cannot be busy controlling. We seek superficial reassurance for our busy minds, instead of the deep confidence offered by our silent vitality.”

I was eventually ‘rescued’ by a local woodsman who from his window noticed the light from my lantern. There’s a moment between fear and safety, in our limited vocabulary we refer to as ‘relief’. But, in actuality, it extends far beyond – it is a measure of our capacity to be free.

Looking back, I am so ever grateful – both for his kindness and this life lesson once shared to me. Whereas, we may feel overwhelmed by an unrelenting fear – the heart’s silence shall always bring us peace. And in that silence, we shall find our courage.

Much love, my sweet friends…

Namaste ❤️