I bought a 60% off Christmas ornament yesterday, not for the tree, but to put on my altar. It's a black bear, made out of plastic, which is realistic, not cutesy. I definitely have the bear as my totem animal, and it represents fear in it's scary aspect and nurturing in it's benign aspect. Recently, my husband was retelling for the umpteenth time (this is definitely a downside of marriage) how I read "Night of the Grizzlies" in Yellowstone Park when we were camping at Madison Campground, and got myself so nervous that early the next morning I almost bumped into what I thought was an bear (I didn't have my glasses on) but turned out to be a huge elk. What he didn't tell was that some campers had been killed in their tent, and a teenager mauled when he took a trail that was closed because of bear sightings. I wasn't imagining the danger, I was just magnifying it.
Now, I didn't place this bear on the altar because I want to rid myself of fear. Just the opposite. I want to get comfortable with it, since no one gets rid of their fears. I just don't wish to overreact or let my fears rule my life. I accept fear as part of the accoutrements of a human being. I don't knock myself for having feelings of fear, as I used to do. I'm attempting to establish a relationship. I'm on the lookout for patterns that get in my way. I don't call the bear cuddly, this is not a teddy, I see how big it is, how many teeth there are, the size of the claws. I am respectful.
Is the bear death, loss, change? It can be anything. Fear arises. It proves I'm still alive and awake, and treasuring my life. It may help me protect myself. I just want it to sit in the room with me and stay in its corner. No rampaging around the room. But I won't deny it's there, with the rest of the crowded furniture and books and people. The room is my mind, and I'm old enough to organize the clutter now.
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