Halloween: The positives and negatives of being scared

Oct 31

English language cat idiom. You don't have ***a cat in hell's chance*** of getting this right!

Being Scared of things that go bump in the dark

These days I’ve noticed a lot is written about anxiety and fear. The world has gotten topsy turvy with dictators rising to power, wealthy elites quietly pull puppet strings so we don’t know which hand to watch. We see scenes of war, weaponry, natural disasters in our lives and on our screens. Comment sections of social media and mainstream media are full of bullying and even threats. So, it’s no wonder that being vulnerable, showing our true selves, and letting ourselves relax to share and enjoy life is ripe with a layer of anxiety and fear. Some things don’t help me either. Too much caffeine, too much social media, too much time with fear mongerers…is that a word or did I just make it up?

We often seek things that put fear in us.

Who can forget the stories that begin with “It was a dark and stormy night…” Halloween horror movies would never be popular if we didn’t want to be scared of things that go bump in the night. October 31 wouldn’t be the holiday it is if there weren’t skeletons, witches, zombies, monsters, and Freddy Kruger outfits. Some people seek out scary movies while others tour theme park roller coaster rides to pump fear through their veins.

English language cat idiom: ***more than one way to skin a cat.***

As I paint I feel fear.

I watch my bullying and fearful thoughts traipse by with each brush stroke. Artists often talk about facing their self doubts and fear. Sandi Hestor whose wisdom I look to on YouTube reminds us that “it’s only paint.” And I often tell myself, “It’s not rocket science…it’s not brain surgery…just do it, one stroke at a time.” I listen to soothing cafe jazz or upbeat music, I listen to books on tape to quiet the questioning voice within. I even paint subjects that calm and delight me- colorful landscapes, silly cats and dogs, and bright flowers. These are partly because of my predisposition to anxiety. I’ve inherited a bit of the worry-wart I often saw in my mother. That part that wants to put on a good show, stiff upper lip, don’t fly too high, be careful what you ask for, the other shoe might drop-part of me that traipses through my brain unless I practice. Practice centering, quieting the mind with meditation, training the mind to look at the bright sideturn off media chatter. Take walks, go into the quiet of nature.

To fear or not to fear…

I don’t have to buy into it the part of me (and the world) that sings the refrain, “Be afraid.”

The truth is, like someone who chooses hang gliding or bungee jumping, I approach painting and all the fearful chatter because I like to get scared. I may have dressed up like a princess for Halloween when I was five but I have enjoyed dressing as a witch much more often. In my twenties I immersed myself in Stephen King novels and years later I loved(and feared) meeting bears walking on back roads when living in Virginia.

And my husband once said something after our trip to Alaska where I was constantly afraid of meeting grizzly bears, heightened whenever I saw their huge footprints left on the ground. He said, most beautiful places that he visited have been a little dangerous or dangerous to get to. I carry that thought with me, like a coin in my pocket wherever I go.

I think it’s true- whenever I visit a beautiful place there’s a bit of danger to get there.

I recognized this hiking in Alaska and I experience it now alone in the studio painting as I face the inner critic and fearful unsure voices within, like “Will it be good? Will I mess it up? What if I waste this paint or waste time? What if I fail?”

A calmer voice speaks up. “It’s okay to be a bit scared. It’s not rocket science or brain surgery. Most beautiful places are gotten to by traveling through a little danger. You’ll figure it out. Enjoy it. Make it what you want” and so on.

Before I know it the zombies and ghosts have gone by and I’m painting one stroke at a time. And all the voices quiet and it’s a beautiful place to be.