Courageous Coda

I wish I could feel brave all of the time. When it hits, I can take on the world, I can defy every so-called authority, and I can be assured, in my own self, that I am doing the right thing, and that my vision is clear.
Then it fades, and I’m a shaking, nervous wreck again. I’m filled with self-doubt, with dark dreams of isolation. Crowds of people, their black shadows cast upon the walls by the glow of the torchfire as they box me in. They fall upon me, tearing me apart, and I wake up crying.
You want the honest truth? If the Goddess had not called to me, I probably wouldn’t be here. I was *that* close to ending it all, because of the nightmares, because of the self-doubt, the anxiety and depression. The Goddess saved me.
Still, I’m not here to talk about divine intervention, I’m just talking about my fleeting courage. In a crisis, I have no doubt I can stand up and do what needs to be done. Then there are times when I feel I have to take a certain action to make the right thing happen, and I do it without care for my own well-being. Once that passes, however, it’s like the fire that fueled my courage is gone, and I’m left a cold, empty shell.
I’m not certain how to deal with that. Generally, I can meditate, and refill that courage, or at the very least reach a level of stability. Unfortunately, as of late, taking care of things at home has left me with little sleep, many interruptions, and no peace of mind, no time to collect my thoughts. I mean, I can meditate while walking, but I have to actually have time to enter into that meditation, take care of what needs done, and exit out. I’m not getting that opportunity.
I’m exhausted. You know, that seems to be the story of my life, too. I kind of figure my epitaph will read “Here Lies Amaris. He was exhausted. Now he sleeps without rest for all eternity.”
Kind of depressing when you think about it. Which I do. All of the time.
When I get filled with that courage, that fire, though, death no longer matters. You could throw me in the darkest prison cell, or in front of an angry mob, and I’d still burn with the fire of knowledge, that I’d have no fear, because that is what I’m working to conquer, my fear. I shall not be free until I conquer it.
I am an anarchist and a communist. I’m a witch. My sexual orientation is not straight. In many societies, I’d already be an outcast, a pariah, someone to fear and shun. It wouldn’t matter that my whole ethos is to love people, to protect, to give life, to renew, invigorate, rehabilitate. To heal. That is my calling, it is what I do. It is what I seek to do for as many people as I can, all without compensation, without recognition, without anything other than the willingness for people to accept me as a human being who has the right to exist.
The fear comes when I watch police, and soldiers act with impunity. It comes when I watch our government legislate morality, and moralize corruption. It concerns me because I know what happens to people who don’t fit within the parameters of those authoritarian agencies.
The fear in me says “leave me alone. Go away, let me be.”
Then the fire erupts in my heart and says, “I will not stop until all are free.”