Love, Fear, and the One Who Chooses

I am love.  The aspect of me that is self-energy, that is my soul, that is connected to God is love.  In that place, I am love more than anything else.  That aspect is courageous and compassionate and creative, and all of it stems from love.

I am fear.  Some parts of me are so afraid, huddling broken in a corner, praying to remain unseen by the outside world.  And some parts work diligently and fiercely to protect the small, shattered ones from any external harshness.  “We can fix this,” is their battle cry.  We can be strong enough, and you, they tell me clearly, can be good enough at everything so that this delicate, injured part never has to feel pain again.  Of course, those parts vastly overestimate my capabilities to control the world and everything that happens.

And I am the one who chooses between them.  I am the one who can become so blended with the parts that live in fear that I can’t see anything past the pain of it.  I can become one with the parts that criticize in a misguided attempt to inspire me to be the best version of myself, whatever it takes.  Or I can tap into the truest aspect, that is love, and be generous and kind and gentle with both of these others, reminding them that I am love, and love is even stronger than the wisdom who is also in me, who sometimes tries to step in and calm these other two parts with logic and explanations of the greater threads of life.  Explanations that they often can’t hear over the buzzing of their own voices.

It doesn’t matter, though.  I am love most of all.  And all of them can hear love when I speak.


Next week, I’ll be sharing a short story about these voices.  Check in on Wednesday to read it.

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