I was talking about all the ways I scare myself last night, those little gnarly thoughts that strike and stick, that grow into stories about “what it means” and “where it’s going,” that then become entire worlds after just a few seconds of following them, worlds created and reified by the attention they’ve stolen from me, the attention I’ve given them. I called it fear, this dynamic of getting struck by and stuck on certain gnarly thoughts.
“Huh,” my younger brother, Luke, said.
“What?” I asked.
“I know what you mean, but I wouldn’t call it fear,” he said, and then went quiet again.
“Well, what would you call it?”
He thought for a few seconds.
“Possibility,” he said.
So that’s what I want to do this week, ask “What’s possible?” when I find myself fearing.