I found this card in a friend’s office. Yesterday, when I was clearing out a cabinet, I found it again and realized I needed to change it slightly. Because here’s the truth: I am afraid. I am afraid of this crazy morphing coronavirus. I am afraid of the thousands of ripples of a global pandemic: food shortages, public resources stopping. People I know, love getting sick. Dying. I am afraid of Trump being reelected. Of birds continuing to die in record numbers. I am afraid of the upcoming fire season in California. I am afraid that my ninety-one year old mother doesn’t wash her hands enough. I could fill pages about what I am afraid of because even if Joan of Arc wasn’t afraid, I am. But I also know that when I am afraid, my whole body closes down. The inner lights go out. My heart bangs shut. And I know that it is possible to touch the fear gently. Not to judge or pretend it’s not there. But to be still enough, to take some breaths enough, to become aware of what is beyond and under the fear and agitation. And I know, from the thousand of experiences I’ve had of it, that there is something real and true and untouchable. And the second I take time to sense into that (it doesn’t take long. Fifteen seconds), everything changes. Resilience floods back in. My heart opens. And I start trusting again in goodness. In love. And to speak about it. This is what I was born to do. You too.