I remember once as a little girl following my brother into the woods. I wanted to be part of whatever it was he was doing – to travel deeper into the thickets and brush, to follow the creek wherever it led.

Looking back, I was simply curious – though, to him, I was an insatiable pest. Nonetheless, my mother would issue her warning, “take good care of your sister…”

Those words were the ‘plague’ of his being.

One day, in an attempt to finally secure his freedom – he grabbed a tool from my father’s workbench. Then dropping it to the ground, smashing it to bits – he looked me straight into the eyes and said, “If you ever follow me again, I’ll tell Dad you broke his stapler!”

Even though I knew it to be false, there was nothing I could do to prove my innocence.

For years, I lived with the fear of my father ‘finding out’ – until I moved away, and it didn’t matter quite so much.

Initially, I was angry with my brother for exploiting a trust that once came so easily. Though, he merely planted a seed – a single thought; the rest was up to me.

Instead of confronting the absurdity of his claims, I let it grow and grow and grow… Until the fear became so great that the mere mention would drive me to tears.

But our fears are only as great as we allow them to be. Yet, knowing this, still – we allow its continuance.

Why?

Because the story is more enticing than the reality of its passage.

In our story, we can transition the unknown into something more readily identifiable. Labels such as ‘failure’ and ‘victim’ – though terribly conflicting, still have an air of familiarity. And that familiarity can often feel ‘safer’ than our churning.

Likewise, perhaps the attachment represents our need to force closure; a means to alleviate the angst of our burden?

Though in the end, it’s up to us to determine – what is it that we hope to grow?

Focus your mind, love – you are ‘here’, the time is ‘now’ and that’s the best place to be.

In peace…

Namaste ❤