It's an interesting emotion, fear. The heart races, breathing quickens, your mind fuzzes. Even for the most ridiculous things. The possibility of startling a rattlesnake in the brush (this week's adventures in golf), the threat of being trapped in a hailstorm (I mean, who wouldn't want ping-pong ball size orbs of ice raining down on them?), or the anticipation of an upcoming event that pulls you outside your personal fortress.

As I get older, I seem to experience more fear and it ticks me off. I long for the days...decades ago...when I didn't worry so much. Truth be told, I didn't know enough to worry then. I didn't know as much about health scares, or the claustrophobia of a raging thunderstorm. And worrying about trying something new caused some anxiety, but I didn't seem to obsess about the details like I do now.

I'm trying to work on it, though. Play golf with people I don't know, even though I utterly dread it. Try new things that push the boundaries, like going to the Historical Novel Society conference in a few weeks. On the other hand, I'm not crazy! I'll continue to avoid driving into thunderstorms if I can, and I'll give any snake habitat as wide a berth as possible. Finding my golf ball is not worth the consequences.


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