A Philosophy of Fear

      Fear compels us and attacks us; constructs us and damages us. We run from our fears to shield our minds and bodies from trauma. In our attempts to retreat from the darkest corners of the world, we build walls and towers. We devise great drawbridges for our castles and fortresses to seal ourselves inside. And yet once the grand fortress is constructed and sprinkled with torches and weapons and secret rooms to hide in, the obstinate force of fear still batters the walls. Its dark and fluid limbs linger and wait beyond the asylum of a castle or fortress.

      And we watch from our highest tower in horror as our family and peers shuffle through the dark fog; we wonder how they manage themselves. But their fears are different and cover other lands with fog and secrecy. Their vision pierces fear where ours cannot, as our vision does where theirs cannot, and because of this, we might ask them for help. We can ask our loved ones to guide us through the unfamiliar and the unsafe, and in turn guide them when the crippling shroud of fear covers their world.