A fearful paradox

I find myself fearful at the thoughts of those who dare not explore beyond what they can not see.  I am wary of a world where a person does not feel free to explore beyond what they already know. I have an idea of what to expect on my next ride: the turns are familiar as are the climbs up the hills. The trees I bank around with green foliage scratching at my leaning body are familiar to me. Less familiar is what is beyond that hill to my right where the faint double tracks disappears into the scrub of the desert. I ride my route as I often do, spending 2 hours on a loop that is predictable just like my work day, but I hunger for more.

I want to be fearful of not the fears themselves, but of the unknowns that still exist within my mind. I want to be terrified as I lie awake at night, unable to sleep. The idea of what is beyond that ridge prevents me from fading into the sleeping nothingness. It tears at the active part of my brain, straining against my bodies need for rest. It claws at me, much like the trees on my ride.

I have become my fear these days, predictable as a clock. I move to a rhythm not of my own, but of a company that pays me twice a month at the same time every month. I board a plane at a prescribed time and arrive to pick up my car in much the same way. I sit in the same seat on the airplane each time, looking out the window in seat 4A. I take the same seat in the shuttle from the airport to the rental counter, placing my carry-on luggage in the same slot upon boarding. I have the same room at the Marriott when I stay there...the window faces west and when I sleep in that bed, my feet face south. I wake at the same time every morning and I eat the same meal before arriving in the morning at the same time to sit at the same desk. I am fearful of predictability.

Out there, nothing is predictable.   My mind searches for hint of water, my fears multiply with each passing mile I travel. Where will I sleep tonight, will there be shelter from the wind, will it rain and will I have to dig for water. The fear in the moment is not a fear at all. It is the feeling of my innermost being doing what it does best. It is problem solving, it is planning, it is weighing personal and bodily risk against benefit...something it does better than anything else.  It is sharp and focused when it deals with these tasks. Will my knee continue to hurt when I wake, do I have enough food, what if the route I've picked dies out......????

Some call the life I now find myself in as comfortable and successful....but to me it feels like a slow death. To be comfortable is to die....to be fearful is to live. I am fearful of being comfortable because in this paradox, I am fearful of not feeling fear. This fear drives me into the unknown in search of something new. My fear takes me onto that ridge to peer over it into the expanse of the unknown. My fear is my friend....and right now, that faded doubletrack is calling me....