Biology of Change or The Fat Fear

There's a time when fear has to go. Because when fear looks at the other side of the world, checking her face into the shiny surface of the grand glacier, she might not recognize herself. See, when things start changing, they first stuff fear with all the nutriments she screams for: the disturbing vision of an aggressive enemy, the collapse of a system, the anger of a population, the sadness of a loved one, the paralysis of the self. Fear slurps it all, and burps it back in contentment. For an obsolete system, there's nothing more reassuring than the pillowy comfort of its own fat fears. 

In seldom times of history though, things start to drastically change. They melt so fast that the fear feeding gets out of control. Bulimia and anorexia dance like best friends in a weary discotheque. People make fear soups at every corner of their streets, on every page of their magazines, and every screens of their devices. Fear is a pledge in times of dramatic changes. Like weed, it grows everywhere, vomiting out of our ears and mouth in lianas, covering our wood floor with webs of acidic ivy, climbing back onto the walls, steaming up out of our chimneys, in a filthy yellow cloud. Fear gets obese. Rolling around like a gooey ball, chewing any events like junk food, ever bigger, seemingly stronger. 

But what happens when change gets completely out of control, while fear gets so fat, it can't even swallow a crumb? Fear stops to a giant bench and falls asleep, paralysed. Change, on the other hand, gets so busy, that it passes by sleepy fear and forgets to throw her a penny to help with her next meal. Fear can't recognize herself, too fat, too rich. Plus change doesn't pay her any attention. In that extreme case, change can't support fear any longer. Hasta luego, fear! I'm too busy changing to take care of you, I AM change after all, and you got way too big, I have nothing left to feed you with. 

When things are melting, when the world is melting at a speed we can't even comprehend, fear ceases to be a security, falls in a coma and melts under the blazing sun. She spreads one last greenish paddle and disappears into the darkness. It's a little bit like trying to recognize our old self in the melting mirror of the grand glacier, up there, on the other side of the world. We look different, changed, formless. Strikes of multi-colored waters, shaded black, blue, grays cover our traits onto the canvas. We melt too. Are we still here? On it, in it? Is it another self? Why can't we be comfortably sat in our fatty fear club chairs? Where is what we know? Knew? 

Well fear has gotten so sick, she had to die. Changes have gotten so strong, they now taking us on the scariest ride of our existence. What shall we do if grand-ma fear is gone? How can we cope? Why do we cry so often? Because we are melting. Not just the grand majestic glacier up there. There's no UP THERE actually. The distance between us and the pole is no greater than the one between your head and your toes. We are here with the glacier, which is taking us by the heart and guts, making us shut up, and listen to the crack of the melting ice. Hearts feel broken because they're melting. We try to listen, but those silent words are unknown. We just sit on a small icy platform curling into little balls under the polar bear's soft belly, drifting. 

The glacier is melting, our heart is melting. The waters are taking over because Gaia's fever calls for a big saving cleanse, as we're drifting away, clinging to our disappearing raft. Déjà vu? I know nothing but I feel a lot. I feel a possibility, so I'll try. This possibility is not in the head as we too often misuse it; this gorgeous electrical system which produces solutions but also produces limited beliefs and fear. The other brains, heart, organs are magnificent machines of health. When they change, when they open, it's to produce more life. Whether we sit on a little ice cube or in the middle of a waterless desert, we are facing our extremes. And in those extreme times of change, only the chain of hearts pumping together can replace the broken pipes. Water is so much stronger than us, yet we are Her. So if we start loving her, respect her with all our heart, we can expand and heal. We can channel new ways. Melting waters bare no dams, but it feels energies faster than the speed of light. 

Now I feel the time to love and to pause, to breath. Take the hand next to you, next to you, next to you, and make a long pipe of oxygen, all around this crazy home we call our planet. We can't tame the waters, we can't tame the change but we can channel the dance of it.