Fear is always trying to save me from nothing.
The impulse to be guided by fear is the root of all violence to myself and others and why violence never makes anything better. (If I argue with this notion: did the violence make things better or did things get better when the violence stopped?)
What I’m afraid of is always a figment of my imagination. It is impossible to be afraid without believing a thought.
All fear is confusion. And the only confusion I can ever confirm is my own.
When I’m scared, I do things to save myself when I am already safe. Prior to my story, the universe is perfectly balanced and eternally kind and peaceful. Everything is a gift. If I believe that (and why wouldn’t I - unless I want to suffer?) then everything I do to save myself is, by definition, unnecessary.
The kind universe is always granting me what I need and withholding everything I should be spared.
So if I’m trying to acquire something the universe is determined to spare me, my attempts to get it will fail. Every time. And if I’m trying to avoid something the universe is determined to give me, my attempts to avoid it will fail. Every time.
This is the universe’s kindness at work.
But when I fail to understand this gift, it adds to my fear. I think I’m lacking. I think I am threatened. I think I am burdened. I think I am forsaken. And I am innocently confused.
No matter though. Ultimately, I wear out to the point I can’t fear anymore. At that point I start to love what is. And when I do, I experience the gift in everything.
We all get there sooner or later. For some of us it may be as late as the moment of our own death, but no one misses the ultimate truth of the eternal kindness of what is.