Do Not Fear the Nettles

Dread can be a powerful enemy but it's been my experience that most things are not half as bad - or as good - as I anticipate. Worry is interest paid on a debt that isn't due, my daddy liked to say.

Most of us spend far too much time worrying the sore teeth in our daily lives. We dwell and linger, force feeding anxiety until it takes over and losing sleep over things we can't change or predict and outcomes we can't alter. We live in a world where it's far easier to dread than have faith, far easier to worry than trust. We get gray before our time and then look back in confusion, hard pressed to see what all the fuss was about. And we laugh at ourselves, with relief and a feeling of having come through intact once again, but we seldom remember for the next time.

No matter how many doors I go through, I always hesitate at a new one, as if not knowing what's on the other side puts me in some kind of foolish peril. I rarely see the potential adventure, only the improbable danger - no matter how often I'm proven wrong, the feelings re-surface and I'm forced to start all over again. It's wearying and silly, this fear of the unknown, and I can't help but think I'm old enough to know better and have lived long enough to not have to whistle in the dark to keep imaginary demons away. My imagination, while usually an ally, can also be a force for evil, undermining my confidence and keeping me a step behind. Cafeteria lines make me quake with fear that I'll trip and drop a tray. Not knowing the answer is more than enough to keep me from asking the question. I stay when I should go because it's the easier thing. When in doubt, I wear navy blue and I try never to make waves. I try to become one with the wallpaper in hopes of not being noticed, avoid scenes like the plague, and rarely say no. Should I even suspect a confrontation, I run in the oppposite direction. I favor old and comfortable in place of new and exciting and
I hardly ever return things that don't fit. I don't like to cause trouble. I rarely drink but when I do I stick to white wine and like it to be sweet, served with water crackers and mild cheeses, nothing with a tendency to bite back. Our latest shipment included a cheese called St. Pat, a semi sweet, organic, nettle wrapped cheese from California. I tasted it with a glass of Chardonnay in hand in the event that I needed to wash it down hastily and the creamy texture melted nicely leaving a salty and slightly sweet aftertaste on my tongue.

Go where you have not gone before. Try even if you think you can't. Step through the door as if you own the place. Finish the race whether you win or lose. Do not fear the nettles.