Church of the Mighty Alrightness

Fearless Again

The thing I remember most about my early twenties was the lack of fear.

I had plenty of fear growing up (see earlier posts about family), but once I cleared the gates on my way out of that house, the world was wonderful, and I inhaled it through every pore.

Oh, I had troubles. Don't we all. Relationship dramas. Medical events. Job and money challenges. But compared to the joy of my newly emancipated life, it was fun, it was swell, it was cool, and troubles were just minor speed-bumps.

It was also the sixties. Sex, drugs and rock-'n-roll. Way cool.

Fast forward to current time.

Yesterday I noticed how much fear I've been feeling as an undercurrent beneath all my other feelings. It makes me flinch, roils my gut, pushes sleep away.

Somewhere between now and all that young fun years ago, the fears within me that had been taking a nap woke up and started prowling.

I think having things has something to do with it.

A good house. A music collection. A car that's fun to drive. A relationship precious as gold. Work I love and a little money in the bank.

Perhaps fear goes into the incubator when you have something to lose. All it takes to birth it is a trigger.

In this case, the events of the last six months really kicked it into gear. Banks failing, car makers begging to survive, stock market in free-fall, jobs lost in record numbers.

Then it got very personal.

My wife Betsy lost her job in early February. New clients have become harder to find in my business. Savings dwindled. My stuff might have to go.

What I realized yesterday was that fear had started squeezing a lot of the fun out of life for me, that it was getting bigger.

Then the spiritual presence in me said, "Remember how you were in your twenties", and the sense- memory of that time came flooding in. I remembered how it was to feel safe, even when I had no known security. There was all my stuff in two cardboard boxes, and I mostly flowed along with the changes.

I could feel that way again if I chose to.

I slept very well for the first time in months last night.

So I'm passing this along to you in the hope that you will also remember a time in your life when you were fearless. How it feels, the incredible freedom and joy of fearlessness.

If you felt it then, you can feel it now.

And that feeling of freedom will bring possibilities and gifts to you that will make life ever so swell and warm again.

We can feel safe even when nothing is, and that is Mighty Alright.

- The Acolyte

Moo? It's Much More Than That

OK, it's confession time. It's agonizing, it's hard, This is very private.

You see, my wife Betsy and I like to 'Moo" at each other.

Well, not quite.

If you've ever watched a cow make noise, their mouths do not move in any way that makes a "moo".

It's more like, "NAAAH...", or "NRRRR", but it sure isn't "moo".

 

Now, I've got to tell you that making cow sounds at each other is extremely soothing. 

Go ahead, laugh. Make fun of me. It's OK.

We are soothed when we do it. Soothing counts for a lot in these anxious times when our retirement looks like working at Wal Mart.

OK now, I dare you.

When you're honey comes in the door, go "NAAAH" (or NRRRRRRR), and just lean his/her way with a longing look in your eyes. 'Say' it again. 

Don't do this if you are on the edge of divorce, or your honey has had a really, really bad day. Wait until rest or drunkenness takes the edges off. 

If s/he doesn't understand, give them this blog entry, which you will have printed. Initiate him or her, seduce them to the comfort of cow. (motto: You don't have to eat cow to be comforted)

You'll also find that there's a world of nuance in cow talk. It can sound exhausted, hard day: "NRRRRugh" Or just full of life and milk: "NRRRRRRcome here, you bull/she-cow!"

I'm telling you, we just found all this out by accident, but now to 'moo' (ugh, media language distortion) with each other calms us before, during and after the disaster-filled evening news.

You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.

If you understand this, you could become a Spiritual Cownselor in our Church.

Of course, you might be a dog person. Woof.

And that's Mighty Alright.

- The Acolyte