If it is true that we come into physical reality to create new experiences for ourselves, how does one explain the fear that comes up when new opportunities for experience present themselves to us?
Why do I hesitate to cross new thresholds? Why do I balk at making changes? How do I explain—and overcome—my near pathological resistance to expansion?
Sometimes the reasons for my resistance to change seem obvious. I have known for a long time that part of me prefers to remain on the borderlands of life, half-hidden, half-invisible, lest standing in the full limelight expose me to others’ criticism, envy, or hostility. Part of me holds back from social interaction—parties, support groups, public events—for fear that the people I meet will reject me or, worse still, treat me with indifference.
And part of me resists exploring new territory out of fear that I will enjoy myself too much—fear that some God or other will punish me for having a good time while so many are suffering and in pain.
In my saner moments, I do not believe that God is like this; I do not believe that God resents my happiness. In my saner moments, I do not believe that enjoying my happiness, excitement, or wonder will cheat anybody of anything. In my saner moments, I know that when God opens a door for me, God will not punish me for walking through that door to see what experience awaits me on the other side.
Greater Self, help me to be sane today. Help me to understand in the deepest part of myself that wherever I go, there You are: You, Who know me intimately down to my smallest subatomic particle; You, who support me utterly without question; You who desire nothing from me because You are complete in Yourself; You, who are Love in all your parts. Exposed to the light of Your love, all fear dissolves, for I know that You will never abandon me, and that wherever I end up in my journey into expansion, You will be there waiting for me: familiar, wonderful, my oldest and dearest Friend.