The other day I wrote about jealousy and it was so illuminating to read friends' responses.  One was very envious of a well-known writer's empire.  Another of folks who live simply yet cook like they have a commercial kitchen in their home.  What we envy is what we perceived as lacking in our life.  What we often don't see is how much energy is consumed by people's passions.  It's that context thing again.  And it leads very neatly to the other debilitating emotion - fear.

For those of you who read the Harry Potter series, a little reminder.  In the sixth book of seven in the series, Harry takes a potion called Felix Felicias or Liquid Luck.  In the wizarding world it is a banned substance at sporting events and in politics, for obvious reasons.  Once he swallows the potion, he feels a certainty of how he should proceed, though it is not clear why such a circuitous path will lead to the result he wants.  I believe one could interpret this constuct as following your gut.  Liquid Luck might simply clear the cobwebs and allow your mind to listen to your subconscious.  Or allow your passion to speak above the din of your doubts.

Fear is a such a difficult emotion because to conquer it requests trust - in yourself and your vision.  In circumstances - that your idea will resonate because the timing is right for people to listen, see, and share.  Often what I see myself envying is the certainty others have in their life choices.  Being middle aged is sobering and refreshing at the same time.  I no longer much care if people don't like me, though when I meet possible new tribe members, I desperately want them to view me as such.  But I fear my choices, being a stay at home mom, while wonderfully fulfilling have left me unprepared for the next chapter of my life, and I envy women who managed to keep a career going while raising kids, because now they have the security of a career that gives them freedom.  I'm quite certain they see it entirely differently - that context thing again.

To move forward requires simply taking first steps.  When I look at this in the context of my next chapter, I have to break it down into manageable parts.  What are the unknowns financially?  Who can I emulate who is doing this well?  What do I call it and how do I convey my vision so that people understand what I'm trying to do?  And each of those questions allows for a shimmer of fear - what if no one gets it?  What if no one wants what I'm offering? What if I can't work hard enough to make it happen?  What if I fail? 

After the Jump again provides some reassurance that I am not alone in with these fears.  

For your visual enjoyment, here is a little something unearthed in our 150 Greek revival attic: