I sit at the top of a hill, battered and bloody from battle. My calloused hands are trembling, my left arm is limp at my side, the shield beneath it bent out of recognition. My sword arm is shaking, the muscles spent.
I am exhausted.
I survey the scene below me, the demons dead and dying on the slopes at my feet. Yet more are rushing across the distant fields towards me, but in this moment, I can rest. The clouds plume above me, the sky red and darkening by the minute. Oh this battle, this battle has gone on for years and still it rages.
How many of these demons must I fight? Where do they come from? Foul things, with their yellowed teeth and vicious claws. So many times they have pulled me down this hill, desperate to keep me from seeing anything more than the steep slope ahead of me. Their roaring drowns out any sound of my friends, my family; when we fight I hear only their taunts and vitriol.
When I reached the top, I didn’t even see over the other side, I fell and landed here. I’m still catching my breath, and have turned to sit looking back down the slope at the slain. I don’t want to look over the edge of this mound. I know I will see only more hills, then mountains, all covered with the gathering demonic armies waiting for my approach.
My pack is heavy. I take it off and look inside. Little birds that have been hidden from the demons are cowering inside. They are full of my words, I take two out and let them into the sky. One sings of a boy struggling to find his way through a crisis, the other sings of his encounter with a beautiful woman that steals breath from his lungs and reason from his mind. They circle above me and lift my spirits. I hope others will hear them and be taken from this foul place.
What else is in here? A sheaf of papers with my scrawl upon them, a story I have written but not yet shown to those who wait for it. I pull the paper out and try to decide whether it’s good enough for them, but before I have a chance to finish it, the paper is snatched from my hands. One of the beasts I have slashed at a thousand times has reared up and taken his prize. His skin is like mud, covered in pustules that ooze misery into the air around him. He threatens to eat the story as I watch, weary and heart-sore. This is one of Fear’s minions.
I close my hand around the grip of my sword again, uncertain of whether I will even be able to lift the steel. But I can’t let this stinking, wheezing heap of a demon win. There must be a way to kill him. There must. One day this battle will be over, these foothills behind me and the demon hoards nothing more than a memory. I will stand on a mountain with clean air in my lungs and the gleam of confidence reflecting off the snow around me.
But I’m not there yet.
{ 3 trackbacks }
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
Oh Emma. All I can say (as Susan Jeffers’ book so concisely puts it) is ‘feel the fear, and do it anyway’. Courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s the ability to act, even in the face of it. I think you’ve got plenty of courage, but just in case, I’m sending you more of it … and ((( ))) hugs.
Delighted to see the addition of the next ‘two little birds’ circling above you to lift your spirits – and I’m off to listen to them, RIGHT NOW.
And I can’t wait to hear about the woman with a small claw hammer and seven galvanized box nails wrapped in a handkerchief …
You have more power than you realise & you will win. Have some moral support from me to add to the quarryful you’ll receive from everyone who reads this.
It’s interesting that you frame this struggle with Fear as a battle–an extremely vivid one at that! Certainly it’s a common metaphor (Steven Pressfield’s book “The War of Art” comes to mind). A few years ago the image of “wrestling the angel” from the Biblical story of Jacob really spoke to me.
But recently I’m questioning whether using the warfare comparison actually CREATES more struggle. If we see ourselves as fighting fear and doubt, does that force us to see it as a win/lose situation, leaving us discouraged and exhausted when we fail? I’m exploring the metaphor of integration more these days (along the lines of Havi Brooks’ talking to blocks) remembering they’re part of ourselves, just trying to protect us, needing our love and acceptance.
Anyway, just a few thoughts. I hope you find more peace and less struggle in the days ahead.
I have found there is a truce but it is one which is tenuous at best. I had a case of Fear all over again yesterday when I had to publish the taster of my short for CW. After all the stories I have put up for publication consumption – why choke on this one – the one which is the flagship of the entire project.
But I pressed PUBLISH in the end and left it to the Universe to decide. There ar nine other writers to also carry their weight and nine other reasons to keep reading!
Your prose is so eloquent Em … and I hope you do find the truce, because while the battle doesn’t have to go on forever, and I don’t believe it can, but Fear never really goes.
Have you ever done The Artist’s Way?
Emma, this is absolutely magnificent! Those little birds are flying and singing all over the globe and as they chirp a sound of victory other birds respond to the call. Thank you for fiercely guarding their safety and then courageously letting them fly!
I just wanted to come back in again to say that, interested and inspired by Jodi’s post, above, to find out more about ‘The Artist’s Way’ by Julia Cameron, I came across this quote.
“Opportunities come to those who dare. As we risk taking the next right step, the universe surprises us with its support.” Julia Cameron
And I’ve always believed this.
You’ve proved that you can risk ‘taking the next right step’ – and somewhere along the path (probably when you least expect it) the universe will fall right in line behind you.
And those demons will be vanquished.
Honestly, you people are just so great! I feel a little embarrassed at how I let it all get to me now – a sign the Fear minions are retreating at last. I worked with the Artist’s Way a few years ago – it helped me to break a ten year writing block! Maybe it’s time to revisit it.
Alison – I suspect you are right – all behaviour serves to protect in some way. I’ll mull it over…
Emma, you are mightily brave, and we will be brave with you!
Maybe a good time for me to revisit the Artist’s Way, too. Want to join me?
Thank you Wendee! Yeah, that would be ace – when are you planning to start? Just the artist date alone would do me the world of good at the moment. Anyone else want to join us? We could check in with each other, support each other, ooh it sounds lovely!
That *would* be cool. I knew if I put it out there, the universe would deliver! Any time to start would be fine. If I can stick with it past the first chapter, I’d be pretty happy, Emma…. ;-P