Our Deepest Fears

Ever tried
Ever failed
No matter
Try again
Fail again
Fail better
- Samuel Beckett

"The spelling bee is today," my daughter announced at the breakfast table, her tone off-handed and her eyes avoiding mine. "Great," I said, "have fun with that." "Ummmm, I don't really want to win because I REALLY don't want to go to district," she replied to her cereal bowl. I've heard this before about previous years' spelling bees, so I was ready. "How about you do your best, and if you qualify for district, you don't have to go? You could let someone else go in your place. Just make sure to try your best no matter what." She met my eyes then, and thought for a moment. "OK," she said, "that might work."

I know she feels pressure from school to succeed and I am not sure my bid to take the pressure off will be successful, but I don't want her to sabotage her effort and not commit with all her strength to the task before her. So then I had to ask: why do I let myself off the hook? I try my hardest at most things, just not the ones that matter the most. I'll commit to workouts, races, jobs, and volunteer posts, but withhold my heart and soul from writing, from relationships where I might be vulnerable, from my spiritual practices.

Yesterday I met with my small writing group. We have only been meeting for four months yet I really rely on, and look forward to, our gatherings. On this occasion the group read my blog posts from the past few weeks. When it came time to review my work one of my friends enthusiastically leaned across the table and urged me to consider writing more poetry. I cut her off before she finished her sentence with protestations of my amateur style, my inferiority to published poets, etc. I felt so vulnerable that I had to forestall any criticism (from the others) by criticizing myself. If they don't like my work, I think, I have failed.

One of my Spiritual Direction teachers noted last week that we don't have eyes to see ourselves; we rely on the eyes of others to see us while we look for the reflection. I think that is why I protect my writing: I don't always want my true self to be seen because I am afraid to see the reflection in my readers' eyes. Their opinion of my deepest self matters too much, and I feel too disarmed when I share my best efforts. I wonder if my daughter feels similarly exposed in a spelling bee, especially in front of a big crowd. We want to be seen but not seen too much, or too deeply.

I love this quote from Marianne Williamson and return to it time and again:

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.' We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." (A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of "A Course in Miracles", Harper Collins, 1992. From Chapter 7, Section 3])

May we be liberated from our fears: from fear of spelling bees, fear of showing our heartfelt work, fear of failure, of showing our love, of shining our light. Maybe then we can come to believe that the ONLY failure is the absence of our best efforts, our truest selves.