During a recent meditation, the West Side Story song “Somewhere” sprung to mind, along with these lyrics: There’s a place for us. Somewhere a place for us. Hold my hand and we’re halfway there . . .
 
My next thought was: There’s a place beyond fear, and when I hold my own hand, when I’m gentle, loving, and supportive with myself—I’m halfway there. 
 
Where is this place beyond fear and how do we get there? Here are a few suggestions for moving beyond fear, and into a calmer, happier, space:

1. Leave your fearful thinking alone. When you do this, when you don’t engage with your fearful thinking, or take it seriously, it passes. Think of fearful thoughts as clouds rolling over blue sky. You are the sky. Your thoughts are the clouds. They will pass. 
   
   
2. Engage in authentic self-expression. This can be anything from having a heart-to-heart with a beloved family member or friend, creating an art project, playing music, writing in a journal, or cooking a great meal. It could mean taking a hike or exercising. The key is to let go of whatever pent-up negative energy is circulating within, and to release your inner pressure-cooker valve. Hugging pillows and having a good cry can also accomplish this. 
   
   
3. Pivot to a more positive thought. You can’t control negative thoughts, but you can recognize your reaction to them. You can choose to leave scary, limiting thoughts alone, and then pivot. Look in the direction of your well-being. Nourish yourself. Eat healthy food. Take a nap. Call a friend. Watch a TED Talk. Listen to a podcast. Read. Take a walk. Get present. Wait for the storm to pass. 
   
   
4. Avoid mindless social media scrolling and overconsumption of news. It’s one thing to stay informed and another to be hijacked by the news. If you drip, drip, drip the news into your mind, body, and spirit all day long, you might find yourself drenched with fear. 
   
   
5. Be of service. We think we need to do big things, but small actions taken with a loving heart have great impact. The term for this is “morphic resonance,” coined by Rupert Sheldrake, a British biologist who described “a paranormal influence by which a pattern of events or behavior can facilitate subsequent occurrences of similar patterns.” Direct links exist between what we do and how our actions affect others. Fear is contagious. What we put into the “energy field” matters. Recently, one of my students said, “We are your ministry.” This filled me with joy because this is one place in my life where I show up without fear and with a clear intention to be of service. My circle of influence—family, students, clients, neighbors, and friends—is small, but it’s enough. Never doubt the ability ripples have to make waves. Practice kindness, compassion, and love. 
   
   
6. Explore spiritual practices. Cultivate faith in yourself, in others, and in life itself. Do this in community and also in the privacy of your own home. Turn to nature, or to teachers. Try meditation or journal writing. You may find yourself in the blissful state of direct inner knowing (of your essence), which is fearless. 
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7. Practice gratitude. Count your blessings: hot water for showers, clean drinking water, fresh food, shelter, friends, family, your health—even if you’re experiencing health challenges there’s more that’s working than not. Our bodies are miraculous. Have you heard the saying that God likes a happy customer? Appreciate what you have and watch your blessings multiply. Give thanks. Every day.

Switch off your settings for autopilot living. Turn toward the light within. Even as the pandemic rages, as our government erupts, as old systems are destroyed to make way for new ones, as change sweeps through our world, remind yourself that a place exists beyond fear. Peace is available right now. It’s inside. It’s everlasting. It’s alive and well underneath all the chaos. Remember the blue sky. Hold your own hand. Be gentle, loving, and supportive with yourself, and remember to breathe.

​Yesterday I had an appointment with an acupuncturist. I’ve been afflicted with chronic UTIs since April, and my physical challenges appear to be stress-related. In the past, while healing from other minor injuries, I’ve found acupuncture both healing and relaxing. The only downside was that I had to travel to the other side of town for treatment. So I was happily surprised to discover a practitioner, Susan, just down the street from my home. We spoke briefly on the phone, then scheduled an appointment. 

​Last week I had the honor of speaking to Marlene Cullen’s Writers Forum as we celebrated her new anthology, The Write Spot: Writing as a Path to Healing. I spoke to the intersection of writing and healing, which is my passion, and realized, while reflecting on my talk, that much of what heals in life also heals in writing.

​Last week, in one of my online writing circles, a student said that she doesn’t feel like a writer because she doesn’t have a big vocabulary. I knew where she was coming from. As a young writer I thought that because I wasn’t a good speller that meant I couldn’t be a writer. It’s logical to assume that having a solid grasp on the mechanics of writing is necessary for an aspiring writer, but those things can be learned—and corrected by editors.

Even during this pandemic, the weeks are passing quickly. My last round of classes is wrapping up, and I’m about to begin three new online writing circles. The work this season has been deeply moving, a reflection of our times. I’d like to share many amazing pieces with you and I’m still considering Zoom salons for the future, but haven’t gotten there yet. For now I’d like to share one story that touched my heart, written by Carole Key, a new student.

Prompted by the recent protests, some of my students have been writing about race. Listening to their work has inspired me and also helped me realize that in the past few weeks I’ve gone AWOL on my own writing. ​

​For the past eleven years I’ve been teaching transformational writing classes. I’ve offered four eight-week sessions annually and taken time off between sessions. During our time off I’ve hosted literary salons, where my students read work written in class to invited guests. We have enough chairs for sixty people and we often have a full house. These salons are always joyous events filled with deep sharing, laughter, yummy food, and beverages. They’re parties that celebrate my students and their writing. 

​Last week I was pleased and surprised to find peace and joy in simply breathing. I wasn’t doing special breath work, or trying anything new (although I experienced something I’d never felt before). I was just meditating and trying to settle down and get as quiet and still as possible. Let go. Soften. Allow. Relax, I told myself, repeating these words as a mantra. I also used, “Quiet mind, open heart.”